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facioleeknow · 2 months

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The art of pleasure ch. 4

Charm ° Hwang Hyunjin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY WC: 1.8k+

Warnings: fraternity skz. inexperienced reader, experienced hyunjin, unprotected sex, clit play, creampie, hyunjin likes hairy pussy, first time, virginity loss

The art of pleasure masterlist

A week after your little encounter with Changbin, you were still thinking about him. His charm was unmatched, no man had ever treated you and made you feel like a woman as much as Changbin. The way his body had reacted to you, to your touch, to your mouth, had made you feel like the most powerful person in the world. His soft loving eyes had made you feel safe and appreciated.

Everyday your fingers hovered over his contact, you yearned to call him, to hear his voice, feel his hands in your hair and his mouth on yours. You had never wanted a second date so badly in your entire life.

Unknown number:

Good Morning, it’s Hyunjinnie<3

I’d like to take you out this weekend if you’re free <3

The hearts made you smile, Hyunjin was as much a lover boy as Chan had said. A frown quickly subsided, you could not keep thinking about Changbin while being with another guy, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. And frankly speaking, you were hellbent on enjoying to the fullest this new date; Hyunjin was gorgeous and famously picky with his hookups, being chosen almost felt like an honor and you wanted the opportunity to brag about it.

The number you called was so familiar that it was engraved in your memory and even under hypnosis you wouldn’t have been able to forget it.

“Hello??”

“Channie, I need your help!”

“What-what is going on, baby?” Chan has never sounded that out of breath in his entire life.

“Baby? Are you talking to a girl? Do you have a girlfriend?” a muffled female voice resounded on the other side of the phone. Chan tsked, you had never heard him do that, with you he was nothing but extremely polite.

“You can go, I’ll call you.” If your phone hadn’t displayed Chan’s contact name, you would’ve thought you had called the wrong number. A chill ran down your spine at his icy cold tone. Maybe the stories about him being a fuckboy were true after all…

“Chan? Were you with a girl?”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” he mumbled into the phone. He sounded like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar, he knew what you were thinking and he was embarrassed that you had to witness that side of him.

“Don’t worry? Were you fucking Chan?” The conversation was getting more and more absurd with each passing second and the tension and embarrassment was palpable even if you were in two different places.

“Yes?”

“Why the hell would you answer your phone, then?”

“Baby please, don’t push it! Just tell me what you need,” he whined. You could picture his face in your head with accuracy, lower lip slightly pushed out and sparkly round eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, you could never resist him when he got like that, “I have a problem with our lessons, are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a little busy these days, baby. Can we hang out this weekend?”

“I have a lesson with Hyunjin this weekend, Channie.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll see you saturday!”

He hung up without even waiting for your answer. Damn fuckboy.

Laying on Chan’s bed felt weird and gross after the call from a couple of days earlier, even worse knowing that your friend might have finished what he had started.

“What’s with the face?” his voice soft and muffled by the skin of your neck against which Chan’s face was smushed.

“Just wondering if I’m laying down on crusted jizz,” you teased, half serious half joking.

“Baby!” he whined again, his feet kicked lightly against your legs.

“Alright, alright, you big baby, now stop kicking me!”

“What did you want to talk about anyway?” Chan cuddled even more into you and started nosing at the spot behind your ear. Suddenly the room was starting to feel hot.

“I can’t stop thinking about Changbin, the way he made me feel…I’ve never felt that way before.”

Chan scoffed and suddenly detached himself from you. The atmosphere in the room shifted in a matter of seconds, from warm and friendly to icy.

“You can always go on a date with Changbin after the lessons, focus on what’s in front of you, not behind.” Even if he was irked, his advice was always on point.

“And you’re worried about Hyunjin right?”

“Yes, it wouldn’t be right to him..” your best friend’s attitude had completely changed and suddenly you felt judged. Chan sighed.

“Thank you Channie, are you sure you’re ok-”

The sudden slam of the door against the wall made you and your friend jump in your spots.

“Hyung, how do I look? Good enough for Y/N?”

Hyunjin stood at the door in all of his glory; he wore baggy black pants, a tank top and a red cardigan. He looked delectable.

“Y/N, I was about to come get you,” his smile was the brightest you had ever seen and made him even prettier if that was even possible. You got up quickly.

“You should go,” Chan wasn’t even looking at you as he bid you goodbye. You were conflicted, leaving would mean things would stay weird with Chan but you were starting to feel quite horny and your vagina was starting to do the thinking instead of your brain.

Your indecisiveness and the weird atmosphere in the room were broken when Hyunjin took your hand and gently dragged you outside of the room.

“Bye Channie,” you whispered.

Hyunjin’s car was clean and tidy, it perfectly embodied his lover boy persona. He drove steady, with confidence; his right hand delicately caressed your thigh over your skirt, he didn’t make any move to raise the hem of your clothing to touch the rest of you. You were getting impatient, you wanted his hands on you. Wetness seeped into the cotton of your panties; he was so hot and riling you up so effortlessly that you almost hated him…almost.

Suddenly his index finger ventured past the fabric of your skirt and came in contact with your skin. An electric feeling spread from his touch through your entire body, your pussy pulsed in response. God you were so pathetic and so wet.

Right when you were debating whether to jump him or not, the car came to a stop.

“We’re here, pretty,” Hyunjin murmured softly as not to break the sacred silence that was in the car.

The view in front of you was breathtaking. The lights of the town shone under you forming tiny little dots on the ground. Above the night sky presented itself in all of its glory, you had never seen so many stars in your entire life.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” Hyunjin was behind you, his hand ghosted over your waist.

“I love it, it’s really pretty.”

“You’re really pretty,” his breath fanned against your neck, his whole front was pressed against your body and you could feel every single part of him.

“Hyunjin, please touch me, I can’t wait anymore,” you whined. In a heartbeat Hyunjin spun you around, like he was waiting for your words, and his lips were on yours. The kisses were soft, slow and passionate, his hands were confident in their ministrations as they moved across your body. Hyunjin was an exceptional kisser, the best one so far and you were happy you decided to stop thinking about Changbin and just enjoy the moment.

So immersed in the feeling of his soft lips you didn’t notice his hand sneaking under your skirt and inside your panties. The rhythmic movement of his fingers on your clit elicited a gasp from you, Hyunjin smiled.

“You don’t shave?” the boy moaned. You froze in your spot, Minho hadn’t minded so you thought Hyunjin wouldn’t either.

“God, baby, that’s so hot, I need to have you,” your lover moaned out before you could answer. It was one of the most sensual sounds you had ever heard.

Your kisses got deeper and more sensual, the more the tension rose the more Hyunjin slowed down until all of his movements became languid and intense. His hand in your panties stroked your sensitive bud gently, giving you enough stimulation to curl your toes but not enough to make you cum.

“Lay down, pretty,” Hyunjin gently pushed you back towards the blanket he laid down while you were admiring the view and you complied, tonight you had no desire to disobey him. Above you, he shook off his cardigan showing off his toned arms and then slowly pulled down his pants and boxers. He smirked, he was giving you a show. His cock sprung free from the confinement of his underwear and slapped against his stomach, he was long and veiny. You wanted him in your mouth but maybe another time.

“Are you feeling okay?” the boy laid down on you, your bodies pressed together, his cock against your clothed pussy.

“I'm gonna die if I don't feel you inside me, Hyunjin.” He chuckled at your impatience, but his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and he dragged them down quickly. He was as affected and impatient as you.

“Are you ready?” The tip of his cock prodded against your entrance and, after your nod of approval, breeched you. It was a weird sensation, an intrusion that wasn't purely unwelcomed, but Hyunjin soothed the discomfort immediately by pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit making you keen out loud.

“God, you're so warm,” he grunted against your neck. His strokes were slow and powerful, he was sensual even when fucking with no feeling attached. The tip of his cock hit a spot deep within you that made you see stars and bite down on your lip with every stroke.

“Are you close, beautiful? I can't last long, you're too warm and wet,” he moaned and panted inside your ear. His thumb sped up the circles on your swollen clit and you cried out in pleasure. This was only your first time but you were already hooked on this feeling, or maybe Hyunjin just knew what he was doing.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please.”

His thrusts became harsher and harsher, your tits bounced everytime his pelvis came in contact with your ass and thighs. Moans and pants came out of his lips, he wasn't scared to be vocal and you loved it. A long, strangled whimper sounded in your ear and suddenly hot spurts of cum spilled inside you. The feeling of his release was the last thing that took you to get over the edge. Your body shook in pleasure and your thighs tightened around Hyujin’s waist.

You figured you almost passed out because when you came to, Hyunjin was laying on his back and you on top of him, your thighs still locked around him.

“Was it good enough for a first time?” His hand lightly scratched your scalp.

“It was great, thank you Hyunjin.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, the only thing that could be heard was yours and Hyunjins breathing and heartbeats.

“I'd like to paint you next time, you have a really pretty pussy.” You poked his side and he giggled.

“You haven't seen it.”

“But I felt it. Will you let me?”

“Maybe next time.”

@kflixnet

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids au #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin au #hwang hyunin au #stray kids college au #hyunjin college au

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

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´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Younger!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Ask by @loveislove4 : Hey I was wondering if I could request and rhaenyra fem!reader where rhaenyra and the reader have been together since they were young but through time the reader starts to feel used and unwanted by rhaenyra because of all the men she has put before and she try’s yo leave but rhaenyra seizes her and holds her captive

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1.3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: yandere behavior, slight dark rhaenyra, being held captive, reader sadness, angst, DARK!THEMES, toxic!Rhaenyra, suggestive topics. Don’t come for me. I support my queen.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ fades notes: my first request since the new season

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

The side of Rhaenyra Targaryen is where you stood all your life, even if you had a choice or not.

Things began when you were chosen to be one of her ladies by coming from a great family. There was nervous but skip in your step when you got to kings landing for the first time, anxious to meet the year older princess. And you weren’t sure if you could be good enough for her but you had brought a lovely gift for her.

A hand stitched dragon.

You fiddled with the cloth behind your back as you bowed at her presence. The day was warm with a comfortable breeze and the garden was blooming with beauty. But you had never seen something more beautiful then the young white haired girl.

The girls beside you stood in a line and you could tell everyone was just as nervous, but they had more social skills. The bugs in your stomach made you feel sickly, so staying a good distance was all you could do. Each girl swarmed around the princess and overflowed her with comments and ask her questions of all sorts. About her dragon and what it’s like to ride one, or how beautiful her dress was and the brightness of her hair.

Standing just beside the table you look curiously at the princess, she had a glint in her eyes unmatched to anyone else. A mischievous smile as she teased the others by answering their questions. You heard of Targaryen features and she had the best of the stories.

A blush swept over your cheeks when you realized you’re staring, so you turned to the cup in your hands and played with the metal and carvings. Glancing over to the stitch you made for her—embarrassment filled you at how every detail was off. You worked hard of course, but her napkins must be more fancy then it and without mistakes.

Frowning your brows you glare down at the cloth. You shouldn’t be here if you can’t even talk to the princess. How could you be friends if you can’t speak? Though the Targaryen princess noticed you too, the only girl away from her and took silence. She was intrigued by you since everyone alway wanted to talk to her and these girls threw themselves at her feet.

She dismissed the others and headed over to you, you didn’t notice at first. Her hands grabbed a small pie and your eyes finally met her but slowly reaching up to her eyes. The moment of realization was pleasant to watch, the wide eyed expression and a soft gasp and fumbling over yourself to bow at her.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” she teased, you swear in the second she would bite. You set down the cup on the table and wiped of the palms of your hands quickly, “Forgive me, your grace. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, I- um,” you lose your words as she bats her eyelashes at you and tilts her head like you are the most interesting thing. The gaze felt mischievous, like she was making fun of you or wanted you to break.

Watching her eyes drift down to the corners of the table you frowned and rushed to grab the stupid gift. You laugh nervousness and picked at the sticked out threads, “Tell me, is the apple pie good?” You choked over your dried throat, maybe she would talk about anything else. Your wishes aren’t granted, her hand extends out and flicks her eyes to the stitch.

Heavily you handed over the cloth for her judgement you felt more sick then before. Shifting from foot to foot as her eyes trailed over the gift, and you couldn’t wait to see if the gods would strike you down. “You made this?” you nodded to the question.

“Sincerest apologies, it was my first attempt at making a dragon—”

“I shall hang it up on my wall,” she flashed a smile and threw herself at you and tugged you close to her side, “I shall show you Syrax, she is perfect to paint or stitch.”

As years go by the attraction and affection of Rhaenyra grow stronger. She is the only person who demands your attention and hates when it’s on someone else. And romantic feelings come fast, but only when she is a bit older do you both share your first kiss. You are her main priority. The world is made to make you smile and she will do anything to have you stay by her side.

At first it was heavenly, so much passion and love. She watches you like a hawk to make sure no one takes you, gifts you jewelry to claim you in plan sight. She clings to your side after the passing of her mother and most night she ends up in your arms. Of course things could never go smoothly forever as her ego grew larger, she played with her protector and never spent time with you anymore. Unless she needs to be held.

“Don’t act like this,” she groaned as rubbed her temple at your outburst, her chamber filled with yelling and cries from you. You scuffed and crossed your arms, “Act reasonable? I am tired of being treated like a toy unworthy of respect and love, only to call on at night for comfort or affection.” The pointed glare you gave made her eyes roll.

Shaking her head, she smiles like you are crazy, like you aren’t even worth hearing. “I am the heir to the throne, what do you want me to do? Drop all my duties and cater to your needs?” thats the irony because you do that just for her, you have refused countless proposals to stay by her side.

But that had stopped a few weeks ago.

“You never have to,” the anger continued to make you tear up in frustration and grabbed a letter from the table and throw it to her direction. She gave a puzzled look at you before opening the letter to read what was inside. And you hate to admit— you felt satisfied at the shocked and scared look in her eyes.

“Your father granted us permission, seeing as I was a loyal lady for you for years. My things are already being packed,” you calm down your voice and straighten your dress to take a few breaths. “Let me never be a burden again like you think of me. Nor, someone who you use like a pawn.” glory was a amazing feeling as you expressed your feelings, and the feeling of being freed from the pain she caused.

The door was right there, but she blocked the way with a bitter expression you never seen. You stopped and tightened your jaw to seem unaffected by her tempts. “You think you can leave after everything. No matter what you think,” she stepped forward and you tried to back up but she grabbed ahold of your wrist. “You are mine, and I love you.” trying to pull away from her got her more upset.

“I will not let you leave me.” You broke free from her grasp only for her shout for her guards and they came flooding in at her command. The skin in your wrist pulsed in pain. “She is to be taken to her room and locked in, and not to be let out by any means.” she demanded to the men. The guards look at each other wandering if the order is right to do.

“I am the heir,” she roared and the noise made all ears ring, so they did their job and grab you by the arms as you struggle against them.

“You can’t do this, Rhaenyra. Stop this at once.” your pleads fall death to her ears as she gave a victorious smirk as you are dragging into the hall.

There was no escaping Rhaenyra Targaryen. Not when she controlled the thread of your life.

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra x reader #yandere rhaenrya targaryen #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon x reader #Rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

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chellestrash · 8 months

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Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence.

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom.

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed.

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week.

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown.

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment.

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week.

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly.

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion.

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you.

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before.

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly.

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them.

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away.

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you.

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch.

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later.

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back.

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear.

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch.

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you.

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens.

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile.

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on.

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?”

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place.

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs.

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go.

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you.

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely.

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit.

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly.

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly.

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before.

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath.

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out.

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view.

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice.

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit.

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault.

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths.

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view.

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself.

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs.

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now.

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank.

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed.

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him.

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #jon bernthal #frank castle smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #daredevil

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helaelaemond · 11 months

Text

Teach Me Your Touch - Michael Gavey x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

thank you @arcielee for the banner!

Pairing: Michael Gavey x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You missed a lecture and have your classmate Michael Gavey share his notes and help you catch up. He's not good at teaching, and he makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel bad. When you cry, he wants to fuck you all better.

Content warning(s): light elements of bullying (prior to smut), feelings of intellectual inferiority

KINK CATEGORIES: public sex, crying, inexperience/loss of virginity (male), fingering (female receiving)

Rating: E

Tagging those who showed interest: @llemes @assortedseaglass @sapphire-writes @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @humanpurposes @underjeno @st-eve-barnes @arcielee @babyblue711

Michael's voice is snappy. "Are you listening to me?"

You look up at him in defeat. "Yes, I'm trying! But I don't-"

"I can't make it any clearer!"

You lean forward on the table and rest your head in your hands. "You're making me feel stupid."

He huffs. "Maybe you are."

Arsehole. Why did you even ask him for his help? You know he's a dickhead, but he's also smart. Last semester, you worked on a group project with him and although he was terrible working with other people, his understanding of the subject was unmatched. He's like a walking calculator, for God's sake, and that intellect seems to apply to every module.

Besides, last time, he had a mean streak, but he also seemed to soften with you. You're not exactly a bombshell, but you're still a woman, and he's a lonely man. You were kind to him last time you worked together, and it made him kinder, too.

Whatever rapport once existed between you, though, seems to have faded. Now, you're sat on the second floor of Radcliffe library under the tall arched ceilings at 2am. No one else is around to see your shame, thankfully.

It's been a long time since you've felt simple. You shouldn't feel stupid - you're on the same course as him! You only missed one lecture! It shouldn't be this hard!

"You're not making it easy to understand," you mumble.

"What?" he asks, irritated.

You lift your head and look at him, eyes red. "My mind doesn't work as quick as yours. I need you to explain it differently."

He blinks at you from behind his thick glasses, and you watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing above his buttoned collar. "Right. Fine. You did the reading, and you understand that a tangled hierarchy is a hierarchical consciousness system in which a strange loop appears. Right?"

Clenching your jaw, you nod. "That much I understand, Michael. I'm not as simple as you think."

"I don't think you're simple. I think you're acting simple."

It's too late and you're too tired. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. "You're acting mean."

"What?" He has the audacity to look shocked. "I'm helping!"

"No, you're not." You stand up and shove your notes into your rucksack hastily, along with your pens and library copy of the required reading. "You've spent the last three hours making me feel stupid and small and unintelligent, and you've enjoyed every second."

"No!" he protests angrily. "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Alright! Well, that's how you've made me feel! And that's not fair! God, I really thought-" You cut yourself off and take a deep breath. But you're still crying, and it's embarrassing, and you furiously wipe away your tears. They're quickly replaced.

Michael stands up and follows you as you stalk off down the rows and rows of bookcases. He calls your name, but you ignore him. It's loathsome how hearing him say it gives you butterflies. "Will you just wait?" he shouts.

You whirl around to face him, making your rucksack fall off your shoulder and onto the floor. The noise echoes in the cavernous library, and you're suddenly very aware of how empty it is of other people. It didn't bother you before. It doesn't exactly bother you now, either, but... but there's something intense about the way he looks at you. It's angry, it's apprehensive, it's... it makes your skin crawl.

"What is it, Michael?" you ask. You're caught somewhere between anger and weariness.

"It's not my fault you feel stupid," he says defiantly.

"For the love of-"

"Because you're not stupid. You're just acting it. Like I said."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He swallows. "Yes. You're not as smart as me. But that doesn't mean you're stupid."

You laugh dryly. "I don't know why I was ever nice to you. You have no interest in being nice to me."

Again, confusion flickers over his face. "I agreed to help you, didn't I? that's nice!"

"I think you only agreed to it so you could make me feel like dirt." You pick up your bag again and continue your way to the stairs that will take you down to the main entrance. You're still crying. He's absolutely shattered you tonight, and it's not fair.

Suddenly, there's a hand around your wrist, and it stops you in your tracks. It becomes abundantly clear that Michael Gavey is far stronger than he looks. You're left breathless when, out of nowhere, he pulls you between tall bookcases. He towers over you. You've always noticed how tall he is. Despite his somewhat bookish appearance, there's something about him that has always been nice to look at. Perhaps it's his thick hair, or his sharp jaw, or his pretty blue eyes. Something about him, despite his nasty streak, makes you wish he approved of you.

"Stop crying."

You sniff and look up at him in shame. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

That makes your face crumple again. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help."

"Let me go."

"You're kind to me," he says, his voice suddenly quieter. When he says your name, it cracks. "I'm trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

"Teach me," he whispers. The intensity with which he is now looking at you in almost too much.

"Say something nice about me."

"Oh. Um." His hand loosens slightly on your wrist. You're all too aware of how clammy it is against your skin. You don't care. Any touch from him is, unfortunately, welcome. "Your work on our projective geometry project was good."

"I know it was."

"Alright." He licks his lips. His eyes dart to yours. "You're... good at explaining things in different ways. I'm not."

You sniff, and look down at your feet. His body is close to yours, and your gaze catches something in his trousers. Perhaps his zipper is caught on something. Or perhaps... perhaps...

Your heart races.

"Why did you agree to help me?" you ask, eyes still downcast.

"You asked."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Michael."

"Um."

It's so late, and you're so tired. The uncertainty makes the tears fall again. Your head hurts so much. "I'm going."

Michael cries out your name throatily. In a heartbeat, he grasps your shoulders and pushes you against the bookcase, and then his tall, lean body is pressed against yours and his clammy hands find their place on your neck. "Don't cry," he tells you. His face comes closer to yours. His glasses begin to steam up.

"You've done this to me."

"I want to make you feel better. But..."

"But?"

"But you're so pretty when you cry."

And then he kisses you.

It is messy, wet, and needy. He doesn't hesitate to push his tongue against yours, and his glasses press against your face. It should make you squirm away. But it makes you whimper quietly. Your bag drops to the floor, and your hands fly to his narrow hips. You open your mouth wide against his desperately, your teeth clinking against his, and he mirrors you until your lips, your cheeks, your nose, are wet with his spit.

He doesn't know what he's doing. You hardly do, either. And it's so fucking good.

"Michael," you whisper between hard and deep kisses.

He groans your name. "I've thought about this since we first met."

"You thought about me?"

He nods, before burying his face in your throat. His greedy mouth kisses up and down before they settle where your neck and shoulder meet, and he sucks. At his hips, your hands ball into fists around his belt. The carabiner he wears on it with a collection of USBs knocks against your fingers and you tug on it.

You want to fuck him.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin. "Think about you in lectures. What I wanna do to you."

To you. Not with you. God, that should make you want to leave. Instead, you resolve to stay.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly. "Show me."

"Okay."

Nervous sweat dampens his forehead, but you don't care. You feel it when he presses it against yours and palms you over your jacket. Your soft bra is padded, and you can hardly feel his touch. It's driving you mad. In frustration, you unbutton your shirt quickly and look up at him. "Touch me. Please, Michael, please-"

He breathes loudly through his mouth. His lips are wet with sailva; he's practically drooling. He hesitates.

"Have you been with a woman before?" you ask, chest heaving with need.

His grits his teeth, anger flashing across his face at the question, the mere insinuation that this is his first time. You take that as a no.

So it's your turn to teach him. But just from his desperate kisses, you're almost blind with desire, and there's not much patience left in you. So you pull your breast free from its cup, and press on the back of his head. He's so fucking tall. "Kiss me here," you whine softly. "Suck my nipple."

He is a better pupil than tutor. Perhaps, if you were less aroused, you would tell him to be gentler. But as it is, his eagerness is rough and hard and just what you need. The sharp pull of his mouth sends electricity through you, from your head to your toes, and you arch up against him.

"Your hand," you tell him. "Down my trousers. You thought about that, right?"

Against your breast, he nods. He bites your nipple, and you dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet. It's the middle of the night, but anyone could walk in.

He fumbles with your button and zipper, and then his hand is down the front of your jeans and you spread your legs. He palms you hard, and instinctively, you grind against the touch.

"Let me show you something." Your breathing is laboured already, just like his. He releases your breast from his mouth and meets your gaze with pupils blown wide. You feel your heartbeat under his hand.

You wriggle your jeans down to your knees and then push down your underwear too, enough that you can spread your legs and cover his hand with yours. You guide his long fingers against your cunt, and it takes no time at all to show him how hot and swollen your clit is.

"Like that," you whisper as you press his digits into a firm and fast pace.

"God," he whimpers. "You're so... you're wet."

You nod. "Yeah. Means I want you."

Without needing to be guided this time, his touch strays down, and he presses his middle finger through your folds. When he finds your entrace and slips inside, he moans so loudly that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes are wide and pleading with you. He watches your face so closely as he pushes a second finger inside of you, and he kisses and sucks at your palm against his mouth.

"That's good," you tell him quietly, nodding your head. "Rub circles around my clit with your thumb. Oh, God, yeah, like that. That's good, Michael. Oh, God, don't stop."

When your hand against his mouth goes slack, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. He shoves his tongue back into your mouth and it's so messy, so needy so erotic, that you have to quickly push his hand away depsite your previous order.

"What?" he asks, suddenly panicked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," you gasp. "Gonna make me come already."

His cheeks flush a deep red. "Really?"

He grins lopsidedly, and you whine, "want you inside."

Gulping, and with shaking hands, he unbuckles his belt and the clink of metal seems to echo loudly in the cavernous hall. He shuffles his trousers down his hips, mirroring you, and you look down to see how his hard cock strains against the soft briefs he wears. God, there shouldn't be anything sexy about the y-fronts he's sporting, but you can see the thick outline of him, his heavy balls, and its maddening.

Neither of you care that you're in public now. He pushes his underwear down, too, and when you whisper for him to lift you up, he does it with surprising easy. You kick your trousers and underwear off, spread your legs for him, and grasp the bookshelves at your back for support. His arms are hooked under your thighs and he watches with glasses slipping down his nose as his cock lines up against you.

Instinct takes over. He shoves his cock through your folds, back and forth, coating himself with your arousal, and he presses over your clit with his tip time and time again.

He moans your name too loudly.

"Shh," you soothe, as if you're not fighting with all of your strength to stay quiet. "God, that feels good."

"Inside?" he asks, unable to take his eyes off his cock on your cunt.

"If you want."

"I do." He meets your gaze. There's a vulnerability in him that you haven't seen before. And then you clench, and he feels your muscles tighten, and desire wins out. After a moment of slipping through you, he presses his blunt head against you, and pushes into you in one, swift movement.

The speed takes you by surprise. He's bigger than the vibrator you've been satisfied with lately, but that's alright. You're wet and throbbing, relaxed enough to take him. But it's still a stretch, albeit a blissful one. It's a stretch that borders the line between sweet and stinging, and tears prick your eyes. Good tears, this time.

"Okay?" he asks, voice cracking.

They drip down your cheeks but you smile, biting your lip, and nod. "Yeah. Hard. Go hard, Michael. Need- God, need you!"

And he does as you tell him. "Think about you," he grunts as he thrusts hard and fast. He's on the tip of his toes, knees bent, as he sets a brutal pace that has your body aflame. "All the... fuck, all the time. Oh! Oh!"

You clamp your hand back over his mouth to stifle his moans, and they dissolve into whimpers that match his hard, laboured breaths. They come through his nose and make the skin of your hand prickle. Michael grips your hips hard enough to bruise and it's so good, it's so fucking good. He wants you, he needs you. That's why he agreed to help you. That's why he accepted your kindness.

He likes you. Buried six inches deep in you, you realise this. It makes you bury your face into his neck, and you bite his earlobe. He whimpers in response. "Shh," you soothe.

"Close," he groans against your hand.

"Me too," you breathe. The coil in your stomach is tightening. The tension in your thighs spreads up your back, between your shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. As you wrap your legs around his slim waist, you wonder, in the back of your mind, if the shoes you still wear will leave a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck-!" He comes suddenly, buried deep inside you, and you feel him spurt inside of you. But it doesn't matter, you're so undone it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter-!

He whines your name and presses his groin tight against your as his orgasm stutters over him. Dropping his head on your shoulder, he pants, and whispers your name.

"Michael," you protest quietly. "Plase, I'm not there, I'm-"

You rock your hips against him needily. As if it is the easiest thing in the world, he sets you down and pulls out, and immediately replaces his cock with his hand. Just as you showed him before, he buries his fingers back in your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, and you appreciate it, you do, but it's not enough, it's not enough-

"Oh, God," you groan softly. "Like this."

You're trembling close and youre's so needy, and you grab his hand and press all fingers against your mound, showing him to press as hard and fast as he can. It hurts in the best way, and his hand is almost a blur, and he studies your face with an open mouth as your expression crinkles, tightens, your jaw slack and eyes scrunched closed.

The orgasm he gives you explodes through your body and you white out, knees giving way and balancing falling through. With his hand still firm against your cunt, he catches you and holds you steady, and you clutch against him blindly for balance. "I've got you," he grunts. "Easy."

But there's pride in his voice. He keeps his hand against you even after your orgasm has washed over you. Your flesh there twitches, hot and swollen, and his fingers gently press in different places to learn about you. Whatever information he gathers makes him smile.

After a long moment, enough strength returns to you that you can stand steadily again. "God, that was..."

"Acceptable?" he asks hopefully.

You're bending down to pull your underwear and trousers back on, and you glance up, trying not to grin. "It was good."

He smiles slightly and nods, looking away as if deep in thought. "Alright, that's good, then. Next time, should I wait for you to... to finish first?"

"Next time?" you ask with a quiet laugh. Standing upright, you do your trousers back up and he does the same, the USB still swinging from his belt.

"We have to do this again." Michael says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he brings the hand up covered in your wetness, and he licks his fingers clean. His eyes close in bliss. "You taste so sweet."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smile even wider. "You don't have to do that."

Swallowing, he murmurs your name and smiles. It's the most genuine smile you've seen him wear. "Oh, I do. You know me. Always had a sweet tooth."

#michael gavey x you #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #mine #helaelaemond kinktober

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rabbitsrants · 3 months

Text

PROOF THAT SHINRAN IS ONE OF THE MOST BRILLIANTLY WRITTEN ROMANCES OF ALL TIME - PART 4

symbolism

disclaimer: gosho's imagery is subtle and therefore often overlooked, so in order to highlight it, i'll be referencing the work of suzanne collins, an author who tends to spell out her metaphors more

sharks

chapter 882-884

how the case begins:

how it progresses:

this isn't gosho's first time exploring the theme of sharks in the manga:

chapter 311

both shinichi and haibara relate to sharks, they're self-admittedly drawn to blood and darkness. but why?

haibara was born into it, she didn't have a choice... and even though she's no longer a part of the black organization, she still carries the past with her.

shinichi on the other hand? he seeks it out. he directly confronts it, because he wants to defeat it. his unfaltering idealism is what pushes him to be a shark.

ran is very idealistic too, which i talk about here. so why doesn't she act like a shark?

"Finnick knows then what Haymitch and I know. About Peeta. Being truly, deep-down better than the rest of us." - Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire Chapter 19

the closest that gosho comes to spelling it out like this, is haibara's line about ran "i'm up against dolphin, one of the most loveable creatures in the ocean"

ran's defined by more than her virtuous nature, she's also unbelievably compassionate and sensitive. that's what makes her a dolphin.

her unmatched kindness is constantly displayed throughout the whole manga.

sometimes it irks shinichi:

chapter 787

sometimes it hurts him:

but most of the time it baffles and touches him:

chapter 258

now i'm going to say something that might be controversial: from what i've gathered, shinichi doesn't just appreciate ran's tender heart... he depends on it.

and i'm not saying that lightly, i'm aware that ran's caring nature affects a lot of dcmk characters - it's the reason why vermouth calls her an angel, why haibara refers to her as a dolphin and sees her as a sister figure, hell, it's the reason why kogoro's able to function most of the time.

but i'd still argue that nobody relies on it the way shinichi does, which brings me to the next symbol i want to analyze:

cherry blossom

flowers can represent a variety of concepts, depending on your source and in what context you use them for your writing. the same rule applies to cherry blossoms.

gosho's used it as symbol for justice in the past:

chapter 687

it's interesting to look at it through that lense, but i don't think that's what the cherry blossom represents for shinichi.

after doing some research, i came to the realization that cherry blossoms are widely believed to symbolize hope and the beginning of spring.

i think that interpretation makes a lot more sense for shinran. especially if we examine their first interaction:

chapter 924

shinichi shows ran his deduction skills to impress her... ironically he ends up impressing everyone but her. shinichi's condescension leads to a full-blown argument:

but then something completely unexpected happens... despite the fact that they don't know each other, despite the fact that shinichi insults ran, despite the fact that ran's completely put off by his arrogance, despite all of that... she offers him a cherry blossom and along with it the kindest smile he's ever seen:

and i just can't help feeling like ran's cherry blossom is symbolically very similar to suzanne's dandelion:

"I found him staring at me from across the school yard. Our eyes met for only a second, then he turned his head away. I dropped my gaze, embarrassed, and that’s when I saw it. The first dandelion of the year. A bell went off in my head. I thought of the hours spent in the woods with my father and I knew how we were going to survive. To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed. And more than once, I have turned in the school hallway and caught his eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit away." - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games Chapter 3

"What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that." Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay Chapter 27

and clearly, only ran can give that to shinichi...

let me further elaborate by revisiting the shark analogy:

the most beautiful dolphin in the sea sees a shark like him, calls him out on his bluff and instead of avoiding him, she actually welcomes him. ran shows him genuine affection, despite having so many reasons not to. how could he not fall for her?

for someone like shinichi, a cool shark who's able to recognize other predators in the sea from such a young age, seeing the innocence and warmth of a dolphin is pivotal for him, because it reminds him that there's so much more to life than constantly familiarizing himself with other sharks (in his childhood by reading and later by investigating them)... there's good too.

to summarize... shinichi sees a delicate cherry blossom, a gentle dolphin and holds on to her for dear life. he desperately clings to the promise of hope and spring, he depends on her affection and warmth. he needs ran, because without her winter would never end, he'd never escape to coldness of the sea, he'd freeze.

which explains why

a) he's so protective of her

b) ran's smile serves as a compass for shinichi throughout the whole story - while his mind is busy chasing sharks, shinichi's soul is persistently searching for the same smile that strummed his heartstrings all these years ago. which is why he immediately notices when ran's not okay (even though she's very skilled at concealing her pain) and why he always tries to make her feel better

and that's ultimately why

a) shinichi's keeping his identity a secret

b) he's so focused on getting his old body back

without ran, shinichi wouldn't have a constant inner conflict as conan, without her, he'd lack purpose and as a result, detective conan would be empty and lifeless.

ran's not just a love interest y'all...

she's the heart of the entire manga.

visit the shinran library for more

#shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #dcmk #case closed #detective conan #ship analysis

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multifandomfix · 1 year

Text

Hannibal Lecter Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loving, doting, the best example there is of an aftercare king. He’ll run you a bath, make sure you’re properly hydrated after your exertion. Anything you want or need is exactly what you’ll get.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Honestly, take your pick. He likes the whole of you. Every part is just as beautiful to him as the next.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

Not outwardly. He keeps any marks where they’d be well covered. He still wants you to look beautiful and the marks are just for you and him to see.

D = Dominant (who is in control? are they a top or bottom?)

He’s mostly a top, loving the surrender you give him, but he’s also flexible if you want to take the reins so to speak.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows what he’s doing. He’s even able to teach you a thing or two about your own body and pleasure.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Though he’s not fond of just referring to it as ‘fucking’ the acts are essentially one and the same to him. He can be both rough and tender. And one doesn’t necessarily have to negate the other.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, entirely. He feels it makes it a safe space to explore the depths of true desire without embarrassment or nerves getting in the way.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you eat or drink. Something as simple as watching you swirl a wine glass or savor the taste of his cooking at that first bite and it takes his entire willpower not to take you right then and there.

I = Insatiable (how do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

His more primal instincts kick in then. He’ll be on you the moment you walk in the door and his hands will roam your body as he’s breathing heavy in your ear.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy the act, in fact he sees it as being quite cathartic at times, but he vastly prefers a partner for that kind of thing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Anything that combines sex and art. Shibari is a particular favorite. And he’s also fond of using body safe paint, having even framed one of your creations while covered in it during sex.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

He typically keeps it to the bedroom, but he does love when the occasion presents itself to have you splayed out for him on his dining table. It’s the art and the metaphor of it that he enjoys.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Hannibal likes a slow build. Kisses that get progressively more wanton, caresses that become gentle squeezes. A slow and natural progression to the bedroom is the perfect way for him.

N = Naked (how do they undress? do they like to watch you undress?)

Slow and careful. He has very fine clothing and isn’t keen on tearing off his clothes for the sake of sex. He loves watching you undress and helping you along the way as you put a show on for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He much prefers giving. His skill is giving you head is unmatched. He relishes the taste of you on his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually starts off slowly, savoring every second, but if he’s been particularly desperate for you, expect him to be a little rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not one for quickies. They’re often sloppy and not nearly as gratifying in his opinion.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t mind trying out new things to spice up your sex life. As long as everything is properly negotiated beforehand, he’ll try whatever you’re into, and respects that you pay him the same courtesy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Though Hannibal could probably easily go several rounds in a night, he generally prefers to stop at one, knowing that the first orgasm is probably going to be the best, so why improve upon perfection?

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

Not as a rule. He has done so, of course, but it isn’t the way he prefers his sexual encounters to be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He has teasing basically down to a science. He knows just how to tease you and for how long to make the most of your pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not overly loud, but he certainly isn’t silent either. He doesn’t hold back when he feels the need to moan or anything else. Whatever is natural for the both of you, should be expressed.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Once he’s established the proper amount of trust, whatever that means for him. He’ll have a conversation about it before jumping right into bed. It’s all about timing.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hannibal is incredibly handsome and very fit. He has impeccable grooming and he looks like a statue carved from marble.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, really, maybe even a bit lower than the average man. He has many interests and hobbies after all and doesn’t feel that sex needs to take up all of his time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Quite a while. He likes to take care of you, of himself and reflect, play it over in his mind and note the things he’d do again and maybe some things he’d reserve only for certain times or types of play.

For anon

Hannibal Lecter: @jkthighs, @riveranddoctorsong123, @jokerhorse, @brwnicons, @floraltxt, @locke-writes, @mattxxamryli, @smilely-days, @danimorgan1708, @onlinecemetery

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter smut alphabet #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal #request

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dark-and-kawaii · 1 month

Note

Feel free to respond to this whenever/if ever the mood to do so strikes.

Zevlor would eat you out with the dedication of a paladin sworn to carry out a life or death mission. He would drop to his knee for you faster than if a superior order him to 'Drop and give me 20!' Also, imagine being able to grip his horns while he is between your legs.

ᯓ★ On His Knees - Zevlor

DAMN STRAIGHT ANON!!! Zevlor is one of the best at giving head and no one can change my mind on this!!!

✧₊⁺ Content: NSFW - Zevlor Gives You The Best Head - Drooling Pussy - Sweet - Comfrot - Adorable Kawaii Ending xoxo

You could feel his tears wet your thighs as he pushed his face further into your dripping aching pussy. He was so honored, so happy you had chosen him, grateful that he could do this with another once more despite his age. Zevlor was beyond happy to pleasure you, to taste you, to be the one who makes your body sing with release and joy.

The man was a god when it came to him dropping to his knees and sliding that warm slick tongue of his deep inside of you. His tongue massaging every inch of your insides, his tastebuds rubbing against your plush gummy walls- your walls clamping down on his tongue as if begging for him never to leave.

His stamina unmatched. He had been going down on you for what felt like hours, your head was spinning, your legs cramping with how tight you kept them closed over his head. The way your hands clung to his horns, gripping them so tightly you feared that snap off within your grasps.

But your fears were quickly forgotten as his lips wrapped around your clit and suckled gently.

“Ah~ ♡ mnn!!~ Z-Zevy!!!!~” your entire body shaking as your second, or was it your third?- Ograsm washing over your body. You could feel his fingers tighten over your thighs- his nails holding you in place as he tried to keep himself grounded and in control.

Your own face flushed in embarrassment at the fact that his face was completely drenched with your juices, your thighs, his lips, his chin all glistening from you and his saliva. But Zevlor didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, the old hellrider kept going- licking up every drop you offered him.

“Z-Zev- I-I~ ah~ ♡!!! Ah~!!” Your nerves were fried from the overstimulation, “I-t feels s’like I-I’m on firreee~ ♡ Ahn~! AH~!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ NGHHH!!~~~” your voice cut off with a broken gasp. Your body trembling as he wrapped and swirled his tongue around your clit.

Zevlor’s eyes looked up to meet yours, the look on his face, the way he was smiling against you as he watched you fall apart, “You’re overflowing my dear, are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

His words alone sent you into a full body shutter as he brought his fingers down to your entrance, pushing them inside delicately- making sure his nails don’t cause damage as his mouth focused solely on your clit. His fingers pumping, his lips suckling, his tongue lashing over your bud as his eyes drank up the sight of your body reacting to his every action.

“I- I can’t sh-shtop sha-shaking~ ♡ ♡ ahhn~ ♡!!! It- s’t-too muhhh ♡!!! Much~ ♡!! Can’t s-stop m-moanninngg~ ♡!!!! Ah-haaannn~!!! Zev~ pllleeeeassseee-“

He could tell you were at your limits, and even though he wanted to continue to worship you for the rest of the night, he knew it was best to allow you some time to rest. Your crying and begging for mercy was evident enough.

Slowly he pulled his lips away from your clit, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the bundle of nerves. The poor bud throbbing in a dull ache, your pussy clamping and spasming around his fingers, desperate to milk them as he withdrew his hand.

His knees ached from being on them for so long, and as he sat up to catch you before you collapsed against the wooden flooring he could hear his bones popping and creaking, but his body was still strong, still able to hold you in his arms.

You were a beautiful mess in his arms, your face was flushed, your hair sticking to your forehead, the furs below you both stained with sweat and your juices. You had a goofy little smile on your lips, your eyes hazy and glazed over as you stared at your lover, “Z-Zevlor~ ♡... So happy you’re mine~”

Zevlor couldn't help but laugh at your cute drunken expression, he kissed your forehead, his thumb caressing your cheek, his other hand holding you securely, “As am I my dear…” His tail caressed your toes, making you giggle, “as am I.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #zevlor #tav #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor nation #writers on tumblr #bg3 smut

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earthtooz · 2 years

Text

fluff, enemies to lovers but rin's in love w u he's just an idiot, swearing, maybe ooc!rin?

out of all things to happen on a saturday evening, you weren't expecting itoshi rin to crash your date.

that’s exactly what happened when you arrived at the restaurant your supposed date had booked a reservation at. you were preempting to meet isagi’s friend from high school, not japan’s number one striker and the man who couldn’t resist giving you a migraine every day you saw him. he was dressed in a crisp suit with the inside shirt having a few buttons undone, (deliciously) paired with a very expensive-looking watch. you didn’t know whether to scream at him or run away.

well, not that you had the option for the latter anyways, because just when you were about to turn around, his gaze rose from his phone to lock directly with yours. a stare so icy that it froze you to the cement, cutting off your circulation, leaving you to feel a little lightheaded.

the feeling worsens when he stalks over to you with unmatched confidence, unabashedly grabbing your hand to intertwine it with his as he all but pulls you towards the restaurant. not a word is able to leave your mouth. you don’t utter one syllable as rin confirms his booking and a waiter leads you to the reserved spot in the restaurant.

it’s a private room.

he booked a damn private room.

it’s awfully romantic too. there are lit candles, a beautiful flower arrangement on the table, and the intimacy of it all sharpened your nerves, filling your stomach with premonition. as rin guides you by the small of your back to sit down, you let out a small yelp of alarm, one that he dismisses whilst pulling out your chair for you. already one second in and you were embarrassing yourself.

the strangest part was how quiet rin was. he always preferred to keep to himself but when it came to ridiculing you, the striker just couldn’t resist spilling out a few insulting quips; just one or two thousand here and there. you almost believed that agitating you was his second favourite activity, after soccer of course.

so the rin that sat in front of you felt like a complete stranger. despite having seen him daily for majority of the past year, fixing any injuries he got whilst out in the field, and suffering many back-and-forths whilst doing so, it was odd to see him so… complacent? not hostile? nervous?

no. itoshi rin never got nervous.

“hi,” he begins awkwardly. the fire on the candle wavers a little.

finally, after minutes of speechlessness, you find it in you to speak.

“what the fuck?” the dark-haired’s expression scrunches a little, his eyes dodging yours. “what’s the meaning of this? why are you here? i’m so confused!”

“i uh-” he coughs, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck, the action folding his shirt ever so slightly to reveal more of the skin that laid under. you try not to ogle. “we’re on a date.”

“no we’re not?” you counter, absolutely astounded at his audacity. “i’m not supposed to be on a date with you! i’m supposed to be on a date with isagi’s friend!”

his eyes widen a little at your outburst. your intense confusion merges to become fury that seeps out of you so effortlessly, painting the room with suffocating tension and pressure. something tells you that this anger has been waiting to make itself known for a while now, pent up from months of frustration.

“i came here because i wanted a nice night out, not for more of your taunts and mockery! don’t you get enough of it during the day? are you trying to make fun of my love life or something? i was really looking forward to this night, y’know, especially with everything isagi was telling me about the guy i was supposed to go out with,” you cover your face with your hands, admitting defeat. itoshi rin got you, once again.

rin suppresses the jealousy bubbling in his chest, his insides twisting into an ugly shape of bitterness at the image of you with another man, washing over him like fresh lava from a volcanic eruption.

“can you say something?” you demand, inwardly cursing yourself for the way your voice wavers; an indication of how frazzled and distraught you were feeling.

“you look beautiful.”

“oh.”

that was not what you were expecting.

suddenly the rage you felt mere seconds ago dissipated into a small cloud of flattered bliss, causing you to sink in your chair and cower from his intense gaze. was it always this hot in here or was it just you?

in the midst of your mini-tantrum, you did not notice how rin’s eyes were glossed with fascination, marvelling at you as if you were the most wonderful thing in the world. it reminded you of a kid in a candy store. he was… adorable, to say the least.

“th-thanks,” you stutter, murmuring out the only phrase you could instinctively think of in the haze of your clouded mind. “look- how, or, why are you here?”

the dark-haired shuffles in his seat, readjusting himself to fit the ‘cool guy’ persona he’s worked so hard to maintain. “i’m here because i’m a better date than isagi’s lukewarm friend.”

“rin, that doesn’t make any sense,” you huff. “you hate my guts-”

“-no i don’t,” he says hurriedly and in a tone that takes you off guard. there is a sense of urgency behind it, so unlike anything you’ve believed to be characteristic for rin’s stoic and unbreaking personality. he looks away to the side, clearing his throat. “i don’t hate you. it’s kind of the opposite.”

you feel like itoshi rin just slapped you across the face. was this some kind of sick prank? where were the cameras? maybe there was one behind the painting- fuck, there could’ve been one in your drink for all you know. then you realise, out of all things you could describe itoshi rin with, a prankster was not one of them, meaning, that this life-changing detail that he just provided you was authentic and real.

what a cruel twist of fate this saturday has bestowed upon you.

“what?” you sputter, “but- but you, what?”

“is that so hard to believe?”

“yes! i thought you absolutely despised me! you look at me with so much disgust and indifference!”

“that’s just my face,” he deadpans. you sigh, unceremoniously placing your face in your hands. rin leans forward in his seat, hands reaching to rest in the middle of the table, just a few centimetres away from yours. the itch to grab your hands in his is overwhelming but he holds himself back. “i’m not indifferent towards you. i actually… really like your company and getting to know you.”

“is it rude to say that i find that hard to believe?” you cower slightly from the seriousness of his ‘really?’ look. “this entire time i thought the last thing you wanted to do was be around me!”

"i do want you- i've never not wanted you.”

a swarm of butterflies erupt in your core, fluttering all the way up to your heart, threatening to carry it out of your chest and elevate it to fall into the hands of itoshi rin. the effect this man has on you is sickening.

“i see,” you pathetically mutter.

rin looks akin to a kicked dog at your simple answer to his confession, his shoulders sagging a little as his hands retract from yours. his expression dampens, ever so slightly.

“should we have a do over, then?”

a smile that you’ve never seen rin wear before appears on his expression, brightening up his demeanour as he stammers out a quietly enthusiastic ‘yes’.

the night ends with you walking out of the restaurant with rin’s jacket draped over your shoulders and the promise of a second date.

#if anyone's wondering: rin only got the date bc he threatened isagi and made him call his friend to call it off #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #rin fluff #itoshi rin drabble

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theurgists · 8 months

Text

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ DIRTY LAUNDRY ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: bitter about having to drag your laundry basket down the street for your weekly wash, you have a not-so-nice first encounter with the girl who's wearing the same band tee as you. the good news? she's the type of girl you only see in your dreams. the bad? she's your roommate's girlfriend.

warnings: modern!au, implied cheating, cheating, alcohol usage, mentions of guilt, slight angst, not proof-read

a/n: a republish of a small little unfinished series from last year. before anyone gets on my head, i promise superheaven was not as viral early last year as it is now lolll ( its one of my favorite bands ) anywho, enjoy almost 8k words of tea.... lmk what you think, i love getting feedback!

You were precisely three hundred steps away from your destination; a small, collapsing laundromat a couple of blocks from your lackluster apartment. If you widen your short strides just a bit then maybe you’d be able to cut the distance by a few seconds — maybe, five or ten just to escape the intense rays of the summer sun that beamed down on you.

It was hot enough that the cartilage of your ears were warm to the touch, practically torched by the heat as your fingers ached, feeling as if they were to lock in place at any second from the continuous minutes of strain they had endured. Dirty clothing sat piled in a white, plastic laundry basket, stuffed without care, and unmatched in terms of colors; heavy on the muscles of your arms as you attempted to lift it once more.

The action caused the muscles in your upper back to flex, an ache to accompany the dull throb in protest of the weight that you had tried to pull. A sheen of sweat formed on your forehead; thin enough for you to wipe away with the back of your hand as you puff your cheeks out, letting out a dramatic huff of air.

After you had straightened your back from being hunched over, the heat seemed to creep through you in the form of a dry throat and sticky skin, bare skin trapped under molecules of heat, and clothing damp from the unrelenting ball of fire in the sky. You couldn’t help but let your lips press into a thin line at the feeling of embarrassment starting to burn up on your bare neck, spreading but unseen to the eyes. The band tee you wore did little to shield your self-consciousness, your tension-filled aura seemingly spreading a transparent mist as you resorted to dragging the basket across the uneven concrete of the sidewalk.

Twenty more steps and you’d be able to melt away under the cool blast of the dusty air conditioner. It was better than nothing.

“Do you need some help?”

The voice was one laced with curiosity, a certain playfulness entwined within it as you kept your gaze locked on the tips of your worn shoes.

A second passed by — two seconds, before you shook your head in refusal, pushing wisps of hair out of your face and behind your ear with a finger on your right hand. “No, I think I can manage.”

A dry chuckle reached your ears and that’s what finally caused you to glance at the stranger who had so kindly offered you a helping hand.

She was tall. Her shoulders were broad, and her arms bulky but sculpted so perfectly, the thought that she had to be a bodybuilder had crossed the expanse of your brain. Hell, she had ‘athlete’ written all over here as she towered over you, shielding your frame from the sun, giving you a much-needed break from its unintentional abuse.

In one of her large hands, she held a small bag, a half-eaten empanada taking refuge within the greasy paper staining her fingers in an orange hue that could only be from blotches of oil that littered it.

Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in a fishtail braid, tendrils of it framing her sun-kissed, freckled face as her blue eyes scanned across the expression you tried to mask with confidence; albeit the very lame effort to do so.

You watched as she raised a brow, eying your clammy palms that circled one of the short, white handles of the basket that was filled to the brim with clothing. She couldn’t help but assume that you were someone who waited last minute to do things due to your frazzled state, although she internally slapped herself for criticizing someone when she knew for a fact that she wasn’t in any position to do so. She was way worse.

That’s why she was here too, was it not?

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing such a good job.”

Immediately after those words were pushed past her lips, she pulled them back in a grimace; realizing just how rude it sounded even though it was unintentional.

With your eyebrows furrowed at the jab, you scoffed with a not-so-nice murmur under your breath before pulling on the basket once more, rushing to move away from the rude stranger awkwardly as her gaze burned into your already heated skin.

Why had that comment bothered you so much? You didn’t know.

But your sour mood was rubbing off on her, you noticed, as she had rolled her eyes before cocking her neck to the left, then to the right to a row of parked cars before her eyes locked on a trash can a couple of feet behind you. She had retreated out of your line of vision, a shuffle of noise being picked up by your ears before a whoosh of air had weaved itself between your now empty hands.

It was only then when you had blinked your dry eyes that you noticed the basket was missing, having been scooped up in her broad arms with ease as she held it in one hand and pulled on the rusting, metal handle of the laundromat glass door with the other, the bell above it ringing loudly as she turned to look at your awkwardly stiff frame stood in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Are you comin’?”

It didn’t take a genius to sense the hesitance that was harbored within you as you continued to stand there, the sun illuminating you in a light glow before you started to move your feet toward her.

Moving past her, you inhaled the faint scent of her — earthy yet comforting; with a hint of cinnamon mixed with sandalwood and clean soap. Turning your head, you found yourself in dimmer lighting and a cooler atmosphere, glad to finally be out of the scorching sun.

“So first you insult my strength and then you find yourself wanting to help me?”

Surveying the empty laundromat, you could hear the small echo of your voice as you questioned her with curiosity, inhaling the scent of different detergents and fabric softeners. If you squint your eyes hard enough, you could spot the small remnants of chewed gum smoothed into the scuffed flooring as it had practically blended in with it from the lack of maintenance the place had received.

Seriously, who was running this place?

Turning on the balls of your feet in a means to face her, you watched as she set your laundry basket down in front of a washer with a small thud. “My goal from the beginning was to help you but I didn’t get my point across in a very polite way, did I?”

“Hm,” You hummed slowly, pretending to think for a second before lifting your shoulders into a shrug. “No, I guess you didn’t.”

Her lips had lifted into a smirk at your snarky response before she jutted her chin outward, nodding in your direction. “Cool shirt by the way.”

With lips open and ready to respond to the sudden compliment, your eyes quickly scanned across her attire. Throughout the small interaction, you had seemingly failed to notice the dark muscle shirt she wore.

Five blue mushrooms with pink stems decorated the front, along with a mint-green snake wrapped around the mushroom in the middle. The words ‘Superheaven’ took all the attention in big, bold lettering in a shade similar to Indigo Blue — but not quite the exact color.

Looking down at your own, you realized that you were wearing the same shirt, and a twinge of interest sparked up in you.

“You listen to Superheaven?”

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Asking me personal questions already and I don’t even know your name.”

Rolling your eyes for what was the hundredth time today, you leaned down to pull the washer door open, shoving a handful of clothes in the small circle hastily before slamming it shut, pushing until you heard the small ‘clink’ of the latch as it was now secure. “It wasn’t a personal question.”

Digging your right hand into one of your back pockets, you retrieved a chipping, neon orange card, inspecting both the front and back side, shrugging in satisfaction at the state of it.

You silently prayed it worked; as you had found it in the depths of your drawer. It had almost faded into the abyss of all the junk in the dusty area as you stared it down. The contemplation on whether or not to save yourself a couple of dollars for half of the bills of your cracking apartment and risk it not working and being fucked — or — spending the money on a good wash and clean but regret it in the hours of the night where you’d find yourself staring at the ceiling in the darkness of your room, mentally beating yourself up for the path you had taken resulting in your financial choices.

Thus, here you were, sliding it into the beat-up machine that provided small packets of powdered detergent, inconspicuously crossing your fingers in the hope that there was just enough money in there for you to wash your clothes. “Just one someone else would’ve asked you eventually if they haven’t already.” You continued.

Glancing at her from behind your shoulder, a challenging look crossed your features once you had gotten her attention. “Unless you respond to everyone in the same manner you talked to me in and they were put off by that?”

Turning your head toward the machine again, you pressed the dust-covered buttons for your desired laundry soap, watching the price flash in red on the small screen above the keypad as it dispensed.

From behind you, she cleared whatever blockage was in her throat, the muscle behind her closed lips clicking against the roof of her mouth as she thought of a retort.

“No, just you.” She confirmed, moving her azure eyes from your frame to focus on the task of shoving all of her clean laundry from the large dryer in a white, plastic garbage bag; the material of it ripping as she tried to stuff every article of clothing she brought with her inside.

You hummed, nodding your head despite knowing that she wasn’t staring at you. “I still didn’t get your name though.”

She wiped the layer of sweat forming on her forehead, swiping at it with the back of her hand before dusting the perspiration on the denim of the loose jeans covering her thighs. “Abby.”

It was a curt reply to your statement. A simple — but sweet and short answer that caused the corners of your plump lips to quirk up in a lop-sided smile as you bent down, outstretching your arm to grab the small packet of laundry detergent before retreating to your clothing.

“Okay Abby,” A satisfied look crossed over your features as you decided that you liked the way it sounded after it rolled off the tip of your tongue. It suited her just a tad, even though it wasn’t the first guess you would’ve made if she had asked you to play that sort of guessing game with her. “So, judging by the shirt, I’m assuming you listen to Superheaven?”

Opening the small, built-in compartment in the washer for the soap, you poured half of the packet, figuring it was just enough to get the job done before closing it. A couple of feet away from you, you could hear the taller girl shuffle around before she sat on one of the chipping wooden chairs; the object creaking with a small groan under all of her weight.

Watching as she shrugged, you noticed how her tongue broke through her once-closed lips, moisturizing them before she cocked her head to the side. “Kind of? I mean, my girlfriend does. She was the one who got me into them.”

Your finger stopped above the button to start up the machine only for a fraction of a second before you pushed inward, a small beeping noise filling the tension-filled silence before a rush of water signaled the start of your cycle.

Settling for a lame, “Oh, nice!” you awkwardly leaned against the dusty metal of the vibrating machine, looking at her freckled face, flushed and shiny with sweat as she focused all her attention on tying the second knot of the bag.

The old, rusty air conditioning did little to cool the temperature of your body as you glanced around the stuffy area, sniffing lightly from the particles of dust floating in front of you, disturbed from the palm of your hand slapping onto the surface of cool metal behind you.

Abby kept her eyes locked on the torn trash bag as she stood from her position, back cracking slightly as she stretched her limbs, letting the blood flow regularly through her veins once more. “What’s your favorite song by them?”

“Uh,” You paused, biting on your lower lip, scanning your brain for the songs you remembered from their discography which was only about two albums long. “ it’s gotta be their most known one, I'm not gonna lie.”

Abby hitched the bag over her shoulder without struggle, biceps flexing as she snapped her fingers before holding her other hand out to stop you from uttering your next sentence. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it, uhh…” She thought for a couple of seconds, pushing wisps of blonde hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear; opting to angle her mouth to blow them away when that temporary solution didn’t work. “... ‘Youngest Daughter?’”

“Close, ‘Life in a Jar’.”

“I was on the right track, though.”

You scoffed playfully, craning your neck in the direction of the impending darkness that awaited you outside, the sun low on the horizon and casting a warm glow of gentle light into the dim, dreary, place.

“By all means, don’t let me hold you up either.” You expressed, gesturing to the bag over her shoulder which she seemed to momentarily forget about with parted lips, raising both brows in surprise that there was even something in her hand.

It came as a shock to you when she had set it down with a small ‘thud’ once more, pulling her phone out of her back pocket a minute after as it had quietly buzzed in the space of her jeans, warm on both sides from being trapped against two heat sources. You watched with bated breath as she sat again, thumbs furiously typing away on the screen, her lips all but pressed together into a thin line.

Turning back to your clothing being tossed about in the wash, you focused on the suds of soap sloshing around the hazy water, clusters of bubbles forming before they’d be ripped apart by the force of the splattering water.

“I was gonna stay here and chat a little longer, but I’m needed elsewhere.” Her words pulled you out of your spinning thoughts, your bottom eyelashes fluttering against your skin as you blinked, clearing your throat.

Before you could speak, the bell above the door rang, and she was out the door with a small ‘it was nice meeting you’ left in her wake as slammed shut behind her, leaving her scent and the previous conversation lingering.

And then you were alone.

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

Standing behind the kitchen island, you squeezed the damp, wet rag between nimble fingers, the muscles in your bicep straining to scrub at a particularly stubborn stain on the counter that refused to leave.

Over these past couple of days, an overwhelming sense of guilt has consumed you. Guilt for thinking about Abby.

Whenever her face flashed as if it were a film on the reel of your mind, you thought about the short, meaningless interaction you had to remind yourself that she was just a stranger being nice.

Nothing more, nothing less.

So, why exactly did her name bounce in the space of your brain in big lettering, screaming for attention?

You had no idea.

Sighing dramatically, you grasped one of the sharp edges of the cool, marble counter with your left hand, scrubbing at the same spot with your right furiously.

“Are you okay?”

Freezing in your tracks, you titled your head up to come face-to-face with your roommate, Lorelai, observing how the once relaxed muscles under her smooth skin contorted into that a worried expression as her bare feet padded against the wood flooring. Her eyes never left yours even when she lifted a hand to pull the refrigerator door open, curling her fingers around the handle as she turned her torso to face you.

You nodded, darting your eyes from side to side as you dropped the rag onto the island, discarding it before leaning your lower back against the edge to fully show your interest in the arising conversation.

“Yeah. Why?”

Lorelai shrugged nonchalantly, bending down to get a better look at all the drink choices available in your limited supply of groceries; some of which were close to being unusable due to upcoming expiration dates. “I figured I’d ask 'cause you’ve been a little spaced out these last couple of days.”

Pulling out a half gallon of Orange Juice, she closed the fridge door before making her way to one of the many cupboards in the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and rinsing it with faucet water.

Tapping your short fingers against the polished marble, you spoke. “I just have a couple of things on my mind, but really, I’m good.”

You had met Lorelai in your senior year of high school; having sat next to each other in chemistry class unwillingly as you were given assigned seats for the semester. While others sulked with their seating partners, you and the brunette hit it off as soon as her butt touched the chair. She was an extrovert; a bit on the chatty side, wanting to cover any and every ground possible in terms of socializing without crossing any boundaries. As sweet as she was, the girl who only stood at a mere five foot three deemed herself to be just as scholarly, graduating top of her class and valedictorian.

From then on, you two were stuck at the hip. Spending all three months of summer after graduation vacationing to wherever your near-empty wallets, and even emptier bank accounts allowed.

She was your best friend; so much so that after your sophomore year in college, you made the big decision to move in together.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully before gulping a large sip of her extra pulp-filled orange juice. “Yeah, okay.”

She resolved to put her short glass in the sink once she got to it, “So, you know how I uh,”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was debating on letting her next words slide past them.

After a couple of seconds of her silence, you slowly raised a brow, cocking your neck to the side as tendrils of hair tickled the skin of your shoulder through the material of your shirt; an involuntary shiver being sent down your spine at the movement.

The gasp that left you when she quickly whipped around was low, reverberating in the back of your throat when she stared at you with wide eyes.

“I have a girlfriend and she’ll be here in like five minutes. I didn’t wanna tell you 'cause I know how you go into mom mode making sure the apartment is clean and I didn’t want you to feel stressed, especially since it’s just her.”

Parted lips turned into a slack, achy jaw as you took in the rush of words she threw at you in the form of a confession. The cogs in your brain turned a little too painstakingly slowly, your eyes narrowing into slits as her rant hit you right across your face. “Oh, my god.” You chuckled. The noise develops into a maniacal laugh, then you gasped dramatically, “Oh my god!”

This was her very first relationship. Ever. And you were freaking the fuck out.

For as long as you had known Lorelai; she kept the possibility of meeting someone in a romantic aspect within arms reach; coming to the conclusion that it was something she’d commit herself to once she was ready to make that big of a leap — you guessed this would be the point in her life where that leap was being taken.

For that, curiosity gnawed at you greedily as you found yourself desperately wanting to know who exactly had her on her high horse; apples of her cheeks rosy with admiration, an equally love-drunk smile and a few extra skips in her already peppy step.

But as you went to speak, to let your questions flow out of you as the metaphorical dams had been picked up from your mind, letting you gather yourself; there were three, sharp knocks at the front door.

With a giddy smile on her face, Lorelai ran in place for a couple of seconds, ridding herself of the burst of energy as she looked from you, to the door, then back to you again. “She’s here,”

Looking down at your attire, you decided that short shorts and a crop top wasn’t suitable enough to be meeting a girlfriend — let alone your best friends, so you pointed a thumb back to your room, heart beating erratically against your ribcage.

“I’m gonna go change. Open the door.” You whispered, scurrying back to the confines of your bedroom and closing the door behind you. Looking around, you blew out a breath, eying the pink dresser to your right, a couple of feet away from the foot of your bed before shuffling toward it to yank open the third drawer down.

Ransacking for a pair of sweats seemed to be a hard task on this night out of all nights as you grew increasingly annoyed at the lack of pants you had stumbled upon. The pressure of presenting yourself for Lorelai’s sake in a timely manner compacting tightly, as if to signal that you were treading on thin ice. Loud muffled laughter could be heard, a sound that was slightly foreign to your ears as you shook your head, rifling deeper into your drawer as if it were a bottomless pit.

Seriously, you just fucking washed laundry too.

Your hands ghosted across the waistband of your blue shorts, fingers yanking the material down as to rid yourself of the article of clothing. Sighing to yourself, you bent down to step out of the thin cotton material, throwing it somewhere in your room for you to find later before adjusting the lace of your thong.

It was one of your favorites; all white with small, red cherries patterned across with a lace waistband. You had gotten it on a self-care day, something that you had spoiled yourself with once in a blue moon for all the hard studying you do. Plus, there was a sale at the local mall in Victoria's Secret; Lorelai had all but dragged you right into it as soon as her brown eyes fell on the sale sign.

Shimmying on your sweats, you were able to pull them up to your ankles before a sudden rush of air hit your ass, goosebumps rising on the once smooth, blemished skin there as you grew stiff, the hairs on your arms raising, tickling the flesh covering your body in a taunting manner as you sighed, preparing to turn yourself around.

“Lorelai - I said-“

Only it wasn’t your best friend who you were standing half naked in front of; nipples perked through a thin spaghetti strap, lace thong leaving little to the imagination — it was her girlfriend.

The girlfriend who you saw less than a week ago in the laundromat in all her muscular, blonde-haired glory.

God, you were fucking mortified.

“Well this isn’t the bathroom.”

“Obviously not.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

“She can’t know.”

“Jaime, I can’t kick her out of the apartment for two hours. She lives here too, just a reminder.” With the heat of your cell phone against the tissue of your ear, you maneuvered yourself around the island counter. Bare feet padded against the hardwood of the freshly mopped floors as you opened the freezer door with a free hand, eyes darting across the small space in search of your dinner for tonight. “She’s also not stupid so she’ll know something’s up.”

From the other end of the line, crackling static was all your ears could pick up before she sighed loudly, breaking the beat of silence. “Well, I have to decorate the apartment for her birthday. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't set up a celebration? Can’t you just ask her girlfriend to take her to do shit? Unless she’s one of those whacko types of people. God, I hate buzzkills.”

Rolling your eyes, you outstretched an arm into the coolness of the frosted freezer, digging out a pint of unbranded mint chocolate chip ice cream. “I’m pretty sure she has a couple of things planned. From what I’ve seen so far she’s in good hands.”

“Okay, so what I’m hearing is that the girlfriend’s cool, and there isn’t an issue with her keeping Lorelai out of the way.” Her chirpy voice held a hint of a smile as she shuffled about. You assumed she was gathering her things; keys, purse, charger, and the decorations she had hoarded up in a brown, cardboard box for the past two weeks for this occasion.

Jaime was a good friend. That was evident from the numerous times she’s run to your side, consoling you in the instances that you’ve cried due to personal happenings… and the group of individuals she’d hang out with. Truthfully, the capacity of your brain couldn’t comprehend the exact reason as to why she rubbed shoulders with who she did, mostly because they had money; something Jaime was practically swimming neck-deep in.

You shrugged, an action accompanied by the edges of your lips which turned into a frown as you focused your attention on the plastic lid of the container, peeling it off with your right hand, the phone still sandwiched between your ear and shoulder blade. “Yeah, Abby’s cool. Bestie approved.”

Abby.

Three weeks. Three weeks and two days had passed since that bathroom mix-up fiasco, and to say things were tense was putting it lightly, to say the least. After you frantically shooed her away, bent forward and pants mid-thigh, the uncomfortable silence that hung in the air after the door closed had your heart palpitating. It was embarrassing to the point where the blood flowed to your cheeks, causing them to be warm to the touch. When the door had closed after the short exchange of words, you had sat in the corner of your bed, pants still halfway on, and eyes as wide as could be.

At the time, you had no idea how much time passed when you sat there before finally taking a deep, burning inhalation of breath and pulling the rest of your sweats up your thighs. Wiping your warm, clammy hands on the fabric of them afterward as a means to rid any nervousness and tension that had weaved itself between your muscles.

Looking back at your past decisions, hiding behind the chipping, wooden door frame that lead to the living room area wasn’t the best idea, as it only made things just a tiny bit more awkward when Lorelai coaxed you from your shell, leaping for you to reveal the look of embarrassment that clouded over your features. The thick fog that compressed your lungs had nearly sent you into cardiac arrest as the three of you stood there in silence, and it had been Lorelai who had been the one to ask if you two knew each other, taking notice of your body language.

It was Abby who had nonchalantly shrugged and said that the both of you had met a week prior at the laundromat, leaning against one of the countertops, muscles bulging from underneath the t-shirt she wore.

This was truly a revelation to you and an unexpected one at that.

Out of all people. It had to be her. It had to be Abby.

Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes at how peppy you sounded, setting down your phone on the marble of the island counter. Twisting your body around to pull open one of the many drawers, your fingers flexed, plucking a silver, metal spoon from the small bin, twirling it in your grasp.

Jaime clapped her hands together, mumbling something incoherent to who you assumed was her cat judging from the low, crackled meows that followed. “Nice, I’ll be there in an hour.”

Opening your mouth to interject, you huffed at the beeping that signaled the end of the call, and your very short conversation with Jaime.

Puffing out your cheeks, you sighed to yourself dramatically, scanning your eyes around the expanse of your shared, empty apartment before stabbing the tip of your spoon in the lush green of the cream, scooping up an extra chocolate chip or two along the way.

It was just you and your thoughts.

On any other day, you would’ve enjoyed it, sitting in silence; listening to the muffled chirps of the birds outside hidden in green shrubs, the whoosh of wind ruffling trees, and the constant honk of horns at the end of the street. It was a thinking period, a time when you’d plan out your day without having to worry about anything — or anyone.

Clearing certain things from your consciousness was a talent, and you pride yourself in your ability to tune out things. It was something Lorelai had learned to live with these past couple of years, even though it still annoyed her to no end.

Practically throwing yourself onto one of the three wooden stools lined up against the outer end of the island. It creaked beneath you when you leaned back, causing the skin of your lips to pull back into a grimace as you continued to sulk in the presence of nobody else but yourself.

Shoveling the cold spoon in the warmness of your mouth, the mint flavor seeped onto your tastebuds, melting as you swallowed. The enamels of your teeth were cold from the contact they had with the dairy, a slight throb forming near your gums when you took another bite.

You had no choice but to text Abby, even though you were deciding against it. After all, you didn’t want Lorelai’s surprise to be ruined and Jaime to hit you upside the head for neglecting the only task you’d been assigned.

So, with the slightest bit of hesitance, you left your spoon in the container and picked up your phone from the counter, typing in your six-digit password and scrolling through your messages to find her name.

Her number had been given to you last weekend by Abby herself, who had awkwardly pulled you aside and silently passed you her phone, the contact info option already open, as well as the keypad. Just as you should’ve been — you were confused, very confused.

In every crevice and dark corner of your mind, there should’ve been a reason as to why exactly she wanted your number, but that question quickly left your mind when you looked at her freckled face, and long, fluttering lashes.

Fuck.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you let your fingers hover over the keyboard as you organized the right words to text in your brain, the sentence a jumbled mess.

“ decorating the house for lorelai :) keep her occupied for an hour or so, please!”

“ for sure. what time do I bring her back? “

“ four?? I don’t know, around there. “

Receiving a thumbs up back in response, you pressed one of the side buttons, clicking off the screen.

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

“Happy Birthday!” The numerous voices shouted with you, all facing toward the front door where Lorelai stood, Abby in tow.

It had been three hours since Jaime burst through the door, the box of decorations in hand, giddy with excitement at the opportunity to execute her vision. She had shoved the brown box into your hand, asking you to set it down on the coffee table in the living room as she spun on her heel to start, babbling about where things should go.

The decoration process went more smoothly than anticipated, and it was because you had just stood in the corner the entire time, watching curiously as she set the house up for the occasion.

Once Jaime started something, you just had to leave all the work to her, or else it wouldn’t turn out how she envisioned.

“What the fuck? Oh, my god!” Lorelai’s face morphed into one of surprise, a smile overtaking her lips as she clasped her hands together in front of her. “You guys did this all for me?”

From beside you, Jaime raised her hand, “No, just me. C’mere you big goober.”

The space she once occupied was empty as she met Lorelai in the kitchen area, embracing her in a tight hug before letting her go.

You watched from your spot near the arm of the couch, as Lorelai’s eyes darted from every party guest and straight to you, a big, lop-sided smile gracing her face as she made her way over to you.

Your lips curled upward in response, arms outstretched to hold her in your arms. She smelled like freesia and cotton candy perfume, something comforting to you, but not to the point where you could feel all the guilt melting away.

It was hot on your skin, burning you alive and tainting your very existence, starting from the outside.

You were a bad friend. A fucking horrible one for thinking about her girlfriend, who looked at you from behind Lorelai’s shoulder with a toothy grin, her irises practically boring into yours.

“Happy Birthday, Lai.” You muttered quietly into her ear, cheeks warming once she pulled away to look you in the eyes. They were swimming with adoration — something you didn’t deserve.

“Thank you.” She expressed over the chatter, hands interlaced with yours as she swung them from side to side. “This year’s birthday is tied with last year's so far.”

At that, you snorted. “So indoor drinking is better than the carnival I took you to?”

Her brown hair fell over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side, and just as she opened her mouth to answer, Abby appeared next to her, guiding a hand to the small of Lorelai’s back.

“This looks nice,” Tilting her head to look at the colorful eyesore of streamers, she pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, letting her eyes travel from the ceiling to the walls that were littered with pink balloons. A large “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” sign hung across the width of the wall-mounted flat screen tv, decorated with heart stickers to, in Jaime’s words, ‘make it more noticeable.’ although you doubted anyone beside you, her, Lorelai, and Abby had taken the time to look at.

Nodding your head, you fiddled with a loose string at the end of the blouse you had changed into, something a little more modest than you’d usually go for, but cute nonetheless. “Yeah, Jaime did a good job.”

The fast-paced clicking of heels had you turning your head in the direction of the sound. Jaime stood with four wine coolers in her hands, dangling them in the air from the necks as she outstretched one of her arms.

“I heard my name, so I came with drinks.”

You narrowed your eyes, the gears in your head turning as you tried to decipher what brand rested in her shaky hands, smiling widely once you realized what they were. “I can never say no to Mike’s Hard.”

Abby nudged you playfully, nodding her head to agree with you as she took the two glass bottles from Jaime’s left hand. “In my top five.”

Snorting, you turned to her, jaw agape. “Top five? You have horrible taste. Top three at least.”

She shook her head, tendrils of hair falling from her usual fish braid. “My top three spaces are reserved for the hard shit only.”

Rolling your eyes, you shooed her off, watching as she handed Lorelai one of the bottles, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, which earned her a giggle from the brunette as she slapped her bicep.

Averting your gaze from the pair, you sighed, grabbing one of the bottles Jaime held out to you, and popping the cap open with your shirt. Wasting no time, you chugged half of it down, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat before removing it from your lips, licking the saccharine sweetness that lingered.

“Why the fuck are we all standing in a circle? I have a game of beer pong set up in the kitchen, let’s go birthday girl.” Taking her hand, Jaime dragged your best friend to the island counter, initiating a conversation with two other kids from campus for what you assumed was the game.

You weren’t sure who connected their phone to the portable speaker, but you were grateful that it was no longer silent, especially with the building tension between you and the muscular girl next to you.

“So,” Abby began, leaning against the wall, leg crossed over the other, “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

Taking another swig from your bottle, you pulled your eyes away from the crowd sitting on the couches, a very intense match of uno taking place.

It took everything in you to stare at her straight-faced, despite your curiosity. What could she possibly want to talk to you about?

“Yeah?”

You watched cautiously as she focused on the miniature opening of her alcohol bottle, index finger tracing the rim once — twice — three times before she puffed out her cheeks, sighing. “Did I do something?”

“What?”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “I don’t know. I’m trying to be friends with you and it seems like that’s not what you want from me. If it’s about what happened a couple of weeks ago, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Turning your body to face her, you noticed the rosy tint that consumed the apples of her cheeks, beet red and burning. “What common interests do we have other than Lorelai that calls for us to be more than just acquaintances? And I wasn’t embarrassed, I was mortified.”

A dry, airy laugh made its way past her lips. “You and me both.”

“Didn’t seem like you were.”

“Oh, I was.”

You downed the rest of your ‘Mike’s Hard’, lifting it to your face to observe the label. It was something to keep yourself busy to not stare at her again. Because, fuck, if you stared at her again, you were sure you’d go into cardiac arrest.

“Besides that, as I said, there isn’t a reason for us to be friends.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, staring at you with a hint of curiosity swimming in her eyes. “You said we don’t have any other common interests besides Lorelai, I don’t think that’s the case. What about Superheaven?”

You were surprised, even if your face didn’t show it. She hadn’t forgotten that meaningless three-week-old conversation? Interesting.

“See, the only common interest we have.”

“No, we still have Mike’s Hard to talk about.” She pressed, eliciting a low laugh from you.

“What? You want us to discuss our favorite flavors?”

Abby clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “That depends on if you want me to get you another drink or not.”

If this was her attempt at trying to pry a conversation out of you, she succeeded.

“...Okay, surprise me.”

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

As seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, your crowd of friends retired home for the night.

That left you, Lorelai, and Abby alone in the apartment, separated by walls and your figure hunched over the toilet.

Mentally, you were slapping yourself at the excessive amount of drinks you consumed throughout the night on an empty stomach. And the cold sweat you were in made it all the more worse for you.

Lorelai had gotten violently drunk, stumbling all over the place, words slurred and incomprehensible, the world slowly spinning. She was always a clingy drunk. That was evident from the multiple times she had hugged you and Abby throughout the night, drunkenly expressing how much she cared for the both of you, switching between holding both of your faces in the palm of her hands.

Her actions pierced your soul. She had been nothing but kind to you, showering you with positive affirmations and listening to your rants about things that bothered you, because she cared, she always did.

You did too, but not in the way she did for you.

Unlike you, she considered people’s feelings. Especially when it came to relationships, and unbeknownst to her, you were slowly weaseling your way into hers.

It wasn’t like you wanted to. As the days turned into nights and the process repeated itself, you tried damn near everything you could to get her girlfriend out of your mind. You failed — miserably.

Clutching the sides of the ceramic toilet, your stomach empties its contents, causing your mouth to taste sour and the saliva to pool at the surface of your tongue, bringing you to swallow back the bile.

You gasped at the unforeseen knock at the bathroom door, brushing a hand through the knots in your hair.

“Yeah?” Clearing your throat at how hoarse you sounded, you could hear Abby’s muffled laced with concern as she spoke.

“Are you okay? I heard you throwing up so I brought you some water.”

Setting your butt down on the tile flooring once again, you brought your knees up to your chest, closing your eyes to see if that would make you feel any better. “I’m fine. You can come in.”

Her broad figure stood in the doorway, a bottle of water swallowed by her right hand as she pursed her lips, closing the door quietly behind her. She stared at you for a couple of seconds, ocean-blue eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re judging me for not knowing my limits.”

Her face scrunched up, the skin there creasing, as if she ate something sour. “What? I wasn’t looking at you like that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Bending her knees, she leaned down until she was face to face with you.

You swallowed thickly, “Where’s Lorelai?”

Abby lifted a hand to scratch the back of her neck, biceps flexing as she did so. “She’s sleeping. I got her changed and put her to bed.”

You opened your mouth, “Oh.”

“Yeah, you should probably lie down, too.”

Waving a hand in her direction, you lazily shooed her off. “No, I-”

There it was. You making an embarrassment of yourself, vomiting for the third time in the toilet bowl, spitting, and pressing down on the handle to flush.

“See, I told you.” She chuckled, amused at your stubbornness and the fact that your face had turned an unappealing shade of green.

The blonde took the initiative to hold your hair back as you threw up again, liquid this time as you had filled yourself with nothing but alcohol and ice cream earlier on in the day.

She didn’t know why she was sitting in here with you, you were fine, you could take care of yourself. She should be with her girlfriend, already tucked beneath a thick, warm comforter, drifting off into sleep.

But here she was instead, with you — someone who she assumed harbored some sort of dislike for her.

To her, that was unfortunate because after she had left the laundromat the day you two met, you were all she could think about. She was filled to the brim with guilt, even without knowing who you were, and when she found out — hell, it made the battle in her mind ten times worse.

She watched as you lifted your head, tilting your head back against the coolness of the wall, hoping to at least lessen your sickness slightly to eventually pick yourself up from the floor and drag yourself to the confines of your bedroom.

This was enough for today.

Uncapping the cold, plastic bottle, you let the stream of water slide down your throat, gulping mouthful after mouthful until you were satisfied.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Abby didn’t know why, but she found her limbs moving without her mind catching up to match her actions, hands on either side of her cheeks, thumb brushing over her cheekbones, feeling the heat of your flushed skin against her own.

She was full of surprises today, and you weren’t prepared for the last one of the night.

It concluded with the flesh of her warm, chapped lips against your cold, wet ones, despite the numerous times you dipped your head in the toilet.

And just like the bad friend you are, you kissed her back, hard enough to knock her off the tips of her toes and onto her bottom as it came in contact with the tile of the bathroom floor.

She pulled away, looking you straight in your eyes without a hint of guilt giving away how she felt right now, but the hammering of her heart against her ribcage gave you the answer you needed.

“What’re you doing to me?”

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fluff #tlou abby

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tyudearyous · 1 month

Text

pride and prejudice - j.yh

pairing : jeong yunho x (f) reader

very much inspired by pride and prejudice with some plot changes

word count : 5.8k

genre : fluff, angst

author's note : THIS IS ALL FOR MY MUTUAL WHO PROPOSED THE IDEA OF YUNHO BEING LIKE DARCY. THIS IS FOR YOU!

masterlist

...

living as a fallen royal has not served you any happiness. in fact, it has only brought sorrows after sorrows, one you were overwhelmed with. but none of those sorrows would ever be lifted off you, not until you die, you suppose. why is that? because you were the eldest daughter out of the five, the only anchor in your already broken family. the only sane person between your reputation crazed parents.

“mother!” you grabbed your mother’s arms to make her face you. disgust filled your face and you couldn’t even process what just happened.

it was three days after your sister’s seventeenth birthday, she was the second born and she was three years younger than you. however, your parents had the audacity to go and basically wed her off to a nobleman in efforts to dignify the family’s name.

“mother! she’s just seventeen. what are you thinking!?” you screamed slightly making everyone in the house notice. “you. have no rights to say anything towards me young lady.” your mother pointed to you with seething anger on her face. her behavior only baffled you even further. “must you go through these lengths? she is just seventeen mother! she still has her lif-” “exactly. she is seventeen, a marriable age. unlike you, twenty yet unwed. it is embarrassing enough for me to have an unwed daughter like you” you were speechless. there was no way your mother just said that in front of you and left. just as you were about to catch up to her, you were held back by your sister.

“angela, we can talk after this okay” you try to make her let go of your arm but she was persistent. “sister, i am fine with this” her eyes gazed straight at you with her desperately trying to hold you. “no, you still have so much to see and learn. it is not your duty to marry, i will find a way for you alright?” you grazed her cheeks slightly to reassure her. “no, i wish for this. it is the only way our family can be stable again. i am fine with this sacrifice. no, i even heard that he is a good guy, so fret not my sister. fret not, alright?” she leans onto your embrace making you hug her. this whole ordeal is breaking your heart. was it your fault? why was the universe so cruel?

…

“my daughter angela, a carriage will come over to pick you up today at noon and i want you to go with her as well, y/n” your father said on the dining table. your appetite immediately gone and your face soured. “listen, y/n. i am not pressuring you what so ever. however, you are twenty this year darling. soon you would be past the marriable age and it would not be good for you” your father held your hands but none of his words felt like a concern for you, instead it all just feels like salt to an injury. “alright, i will prepare myself then” you immediately stood up from the dining table to go to your room.

“oh? have you finished getting ready?” you asked your sister who was sitting on her bed next to yours. “yep, you are coming with me right?” she asked you in which you nodded. she was wearing her favorite pink gown adorned decorations that made her beauty unmatchable. you had to admit, out of the five sisters she was the prettiest. it was as if a white rose suddenly appeared in a garden of red roses, that was how she was.

“you look great, i’m sure he would fall in love with you as soon as he saw you” you smiled to her widely before getting ready yourself. you opted to wear a rather normal gown in the shade of jade. you didn’t want to overdress your sister, nor did you want attention on you.

love has always been a difficult topic for you. you didn’t want to sell out your future to a man in the name of marriage and also, woman generally wasn’t given any freedom post marriage. you had to either be an obedient doll for your husband or you’d be divorced and thrown away in a second. it was either in between and that is why, love scared you.

but either way, it was your mission to at least be a good companion for your sister. to cover up all the ugly side behind her and your family, to be a good guardian for her.

soon, the carriage bell rang. notifying its’ presence and urging you both to go inside. your sister excitedly runs down the house and bid goodbyes to your parents who were waiting out the door.

“take care of her okay?” your father bid goodbyes to you by squeezing your hands while your mother only looked at you. “i will, goodbye” and with that, the two of you were in the carriage off to the Northwestern Palace where her future husband is waiting for her.

“sister?” your sister called out to you, breaking you out of your daze. “yes, my angel?” you scurried to sit next to her and held her hands. “i am scared” your sister starts to tear up. “darling, it’ll be alright. it’ll be alright.” you brought her in to hug and comfort her. just why, why would an innocent soul like her have to go through all this.

…

“ladies, we have arrived at the Northwestern Palace” the coachman knocks on the carriage door before swiftly opening it, making a way for you and your sister to exit the carriage. the whole ride was pretty serene. nothing much happened, except for the fact that your sister felt worried about the whole meeting. it was inevitable, love is scary. however she immediately recollected herself and is back to the usual happy go lucky sister you have.

after a small walk, a luxurious white pavilion is visible where two (seemingly) esteemed gentleman were sitting. the two then stood up noticing your presence before bowing to greet the two of you. you also curtsied to greet them together with your sister before walking even closer to the pavilion.

“greetings, i am y/n from the house of brigitte and this is s/n. very delighted to make your acquaintance” you and your sister curtsied to greet the two men in front of you. “oh yes, i am san from the house of choi and this is my companion, yunho from the house of jeong. thrilled to make acquaintance with you both as well.” he greeted you cheerfully before ushering you to take a seat on the table in the pavilion.

for a second, you felt small. this whole place, the pavilion, the table, their presence, all felt overwhelming. if it weren’t for your sister who was chatting delightfully with san, you think you’d suffocate from stress.

while san and your sister chatted well together, you decided to talk to yunho for a little bit. “um, so how did you get acquainted with mr. choi?” you ask while taking a sip of your tea. “i’m sorry but is that your business?” he responded coldly. you were frozen for a second, unable to react. “oh, i apologize, my curiosity got the better off me” you laughed it off before taking another sip. it was clear enough, this guy in front of you has zero interest in forming acquaintances with you. it was fine, as long as your sister was happy it was fine. soon the afternoon went by a flash. it was an enjoyable experience for your sister, it was all that matters.

…

“how was it?” your vivacious mother asked your sister once you arrived back home. “it was great, mother. he was a gentleman, anything i could ask for” she replied, making your parents exhale a big sigh of relief. they seemed so happy, and you were too but there was a hint of bittersweetness in your heart. after all, you were the disappointment for them and did you even have the right to be happy? but you digress. “i will be off to my room now, if you need anything just call me” and with that you went upstairs to your room.

“sister!” your youngest sister came up to you. “hi sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you crouched down to ruffle her hair slightly. “is it true? sister angela is getting married?” she asked you and you nodded. “yes, angela has met her prince charming you know?” you smiled to her. “but what about you? have you not met him?” you froze slightly before shaking your head. “it’s late already, let me tuck you into bed okay sweetheart?” you ushered her to go back to her room to rest up. you just didn’t want to answer much because it’s all too conflicting for you. it’s all too much for you. even so, you did wish to meet your prince charming, you wished but it was just a mere wish. a mere wish that has very low chances of getting granted.

…

“y/n! prepare the guest room please!” your mother called out to you in the middle of the morning. you were confused, why would they need the guest room ready, for who? and why is she asking that of you this early? “mother, who is coming?” you asked as you went down the stairs. “it is your father’s colleague. he is coming over with his son” she explained to you. “and who exactly?” you asked while you start to dust off the room. “the house of park” oh, it was seonghwa. he was once deeply infatuated with your sister, so obviously you knew him. he wasn’t a bad guy, per se. however, you just don’t feel good about him sometimes.

as you were cleaning, the day started to go by and it was now afternoon when the esteemed guests came by. your parents greeted them with extreme joy and they also greeted everyone back. you led them to the guest room where your parents and them chatted off. you stayed at the door, tending to their drinks and snacks when seonghwa snuck up on you.

“um, so, where’s angela?” he asked. “oh, she’s going to come down soon” you replied before he went back to his seat. sure enough, your sister soon came down and it was as if seonghwa just saw an angel. his eyes immediately lit up and a big smile adorned his face.

“so, mr and mrs brigitte. the purpose of our visit today is actually because we want-” “no father, i will say it myself” seonghwa cut his father off before clearing his throat. “miss angela brigitte, i have taken a great liking towards you ever since the first day we met. will you do me the honor of being my wife?” seonghwa knelt down in front of angela and took her hands to kiss it slightly.

“i must apologize” angela took her hands off seonghwa’s. “i am already engaged to mr. san from the house of choi” and the entire room fell into a tense mood. seonghwa quickly reassured angela that it was alright and your parents ushered you and angela out of the room to not make the room even more tense. thus, you brought angela back to your shared room where she cried.

“i feel like a horrendous person. i feel bad” angela cried out to your shoulder. “shush baby, it’s alright. i am sure he would understand alright” you comforted angela throughout the night but unbeknownst to you, the park family and yours agreed on an alternative. an alternative you wouldn’t even want.

…

somehow seonghwa kept going to your house, despite getting rejected by angela. you were confused on why he was doing all this. on an instance even, he brought you to meet one of his longtime friends, hongjoong from the house of kim. it was all confusing but creating relations wasn’t something you were against.

“i heard you are acquaintances with san from the house of choi?” hongjoong asked. “yes, he is about to be wedded to my sister after all” you replied with a smile. “then, may i assume you are also acquainted with jeong yunho?” your eyes shot up and you froze slightly. “not exactly, why?” you asked. “i should warn you about him. he is not a good man. the kim family has been the greatest supporter the jeong family could ever ask but what did that guy do? deny us from our rights” hongjoong took a sip of his tea angrily. “hongjoong, let’s not-” “no seonghwa! i am merely stating facts. i had to work like a dog to save my family from bankruptcy when we were exiled” hongjoong explained further. “why were you exiled?” you asked. “because we didn’t have one vision thats all. either way, be careful of him”

you weren’t the type to trust someone immediately. after all you were a big skeptic, however because seonghwa trusts hongjoong so much, you just couldn’t help but feel a slight empathy. how could someone pay literal dust to someone who has been loyal, and even if there were differences of views, shouldn’t it be talked over? you didn’t want to involve yourself though so you just decided to stay neutral. one thing is for sure, jeong yunho did not seem like a good guy at all.

…

it was the night of the ball in the Northwestern Palace and sure enough, you had to dance with the man himself, jeong yunho. you didn’t hate him but that did not mean you liked him. he has been nothing but rude to you ever since the first meet. however, you cannot deny. he is a great dancer.

“i am surprised you are good at this” you said in attempt for a small talk. “it is merely the basics my lady” he said as he let you go to twirl and held you by your waist again. “sure, basics” and you both danced until the music ends. what you didn’t expect was for him to initiate a small talk.

“would you like to take some time in the garden?” yunho asked as he took a sip from the glass of champagne he was holding. “sure” and with that the two of you went down to go to the garden. this did not go unnoticed by san and angela. “look, your sister” san pointed towards your direction to your sister. “let them be, let’s just hope for the best” she laughed before resuming to their own conversation.

“i did not strike you as someone who would ask a lady” you joked. “i am merely doing this as an apology for last time” yunho waited in front of the stairs, offering his hand for you to take while you go down the stairs. “thank you” you said before he led you to the garden of the palace.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” you asked him as you took a seat on bench nearby. “i was wondering on a few things actually” he sat next to you.

“how are you alright with your sister overstepping you?”

“in marriage?”

“yes”

you sighed and stayed quiet for a moment. of course people would ask that. of course it would be a topic in your conversation. after all, people deemed it to be rude but you couldn’t care less.

“perhaps i just do not care? all i ever wanted was happiness for my sisters and it is not her fault for finding love before me. and if you ask me how did it came to this, i also don’t know. perhaps it’s just the universe’s will? either way, i don’t have a problem with that”

“i have heard that you rejected several marriage offers”

“yes, just one though to be exact. i do not find myself ready when i got that offer. i was still sixteen after all. now that i am twenty, i couldn’t thank my sixteen year old self more than anything”

“and why is that?”

“because i got to experience life. if i got married, i wouldn’t be able to do that”

“how? you still have your life even after you marry? it is not the end of the world”

“to you yes, to me no. i would have to be entangled with housework, wifely duties, and when i have a child as well, i can’t do anything freely. i am not saying i don’t want to get married but i still find it to be not something i highly desire.”

“let’s say, someone proposes to you today. will you accept it?”

“i do not know. if i could see myself loving that person, perhaps i would but if i couldn’t i think i would reject it once again”

yunho nodded understandingly. turns out, he wasn’t too bad. he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. he was a good listener and also a very logical person. the conversation actually went well because he was actually a good conversationist. perhaps this person wasn’t that bad but you digress.

…

it was as if the universe was playing a joke to you, seonghwa decided to propose to you in exchange for not getting angela. of course you rejected it. how could you be used a replacement? it was a disgraceful move on its own. you were even more flabbergasted when you knew it was your parent’s idea. what the actual hell are they thinking?

“do you perhaps not possess a brain to think?” you angrily opened the door to their bedroom

“honey, what is this behavior!” your mother shouted

“what is this behavior? you have the audacity to ask me that? am i an easy thing to use as a replacement for my sister? are you planning to sell me out?”

“y/n please calm down”

“y/n! we are doing this for your greater good. what future lies beyond you if you refuse him. we are doing this because we love you. we are doing this because we wish for what's good for you”

"but that is not how you do it!" you screamed into the room

you couldn’t even talk anymore. you felt so incredibly betrayed. how could they treat you like this? how could they treat you this horrible? you knew they were slightly insane after they lost their estate to debt but this was beyond your limit. your entire dignity crushed into pieces, ground up to the floor and thrown away six feet under the ground. it was shit, completely shit.

“my daughter, can we talk?” your father came over to the dining room where you were crying profusely. “what more do you want? do you not understand how that made me look? i look like an easy woman, father. i look like an easy shit to trampled upon” he shushed you before bringing you to a hug to comfort you. he didn’t say anything, perhaps too guilty to even say anything. at least he knows his mistake.

…

it has been several months since everything happened. you decided to do things like how you are used to. forgive and move on. seonghwa even got married already because one of your friend was scared she’d become a spinster. you apologized to seonghwa and seonghwa thankfully was a good man. he understood your rejection and reaction, he understood everything.

however, angela’s relationship with san was something else. choi san was a busy man and it was a given he wouldn’t have much time. but if he was determined, he could at least spare just a few minutes with angela but that never happened. so when his party left for a neighboring country, you told angela to go to your relative’s house since they live in that neigboring country and she did.

now, with nothing to do on hand, you decided to visit seonghwa and your friend. after all, there was nothing wrong with a small catch up session between friends. it was quite a long walk but not one you’d complain about and when you arrived, it was a small yet comfortable bungalow they are living in. very suited to seonghwa’s love for simplicity.

they invited you for dinner and you chatted away quite happily until seonghwa brought up something he heard a few days ago during a party.

“i do not know if this is for sure or not but i heard yunho has been trying to separate san and your sister because your family is “unsuitable” for the chois”

“what?” you were confused.

“who said that?”

“colonel song, a close friend of his”

oh. that was the nail to the coffin you suppose.

…

after hearing what seonghwa said, you immediately took the train to go to the neighboring country to meet your sister. you went there not to meet your sister, but to meet jeong yunho instead. once you arrived, you immediately went to the jeong estate. it was raining but you couldn’t care less. but as you were on your way, you spotted him near his estate.

“miss y/n, it has been a while. i have been looking for you”

“good you’re here. wait, pardon?”

“i have been searching for you ever since i knew of angela’s presence here in this country”

“why? for what exactly?”

“i have thought about this day and night.”

yunho cleared his throat before continuing.

“in vain i have struggled, and it just will never do. my feelings have gotten to my better judgement. allow me to tell you how ardently i admire you”

“i don’t understand”

“i love you. will you please do me the honor to be mine?”

“no. i cannot”

you were beyond confused. this man separated your sister, deeming your family unfit for his standards and besides the garden conversation, he never paid any attention towards you. so what is this sudden confession.

“didn’t you say my family is unsuitable? so why are you acting like this?”

“i cannot care less. i cannot care less about statuses right now”

“so why did you separate angela and san?”

“didn’t miss angela not want it? she was being very passive and i did not want san to get heartbroken any further”

“you have no rights to do that! and no. angela loved him. the reason why she is even here is because of choi san. you have no rights to do that, mr. jeong”

“i apologize”

“is that all you could think of?’

“what more do you ask from me?”

“i don’t know. i just cannot accept it. you have always acted so cold towards me and now suddenly you’re professing your love towards me? mr. jeong, respectfully, that is not the way to get a woman’s heart. in fact that is a way to drive a woman away”

“for ever since i was born, i was raised to be indifferent. i have always been indifferent but this. this is the first time where i let all my logics out the window. this is the first time i had ever let my feelings control me, my lady. i am not asking for much.”

“right, you are an indifferent individual. then care to explain your decisions regarding the kim family?”

“what sort of decisions?”

“i don’t know, you were the one making it. why would you do that to a family that has been nothing but loyal to you, mr. jeong?”

“i am afraid you do not know anything, miss brigitte”

“oh? so i don’t know enough do i?”

“the kim family embezzled the jeongs. do you know that?”

“what?”

“miss, i did not take you for someone who blatantly believes lies. however, i do hope you would think twice before believing someone and i believe that this proposal has not come to a good ending thus i will leave now. i have gotten a carriage ready for you. my feelings have not changed at all, however i think that you might need some time, so i am granting you that time”

oh, you did a big mistake didn’t you?

…

“y/n, a letter has come for you!” your sister screamed. “angela it’s 9 PM, who would even-” you recognized that seal. that seal is not from a mere family, it was the seal of the jeongs. “when did this arrive?” you asked angela after taking the letter from her hands. “a guard sent it just now, is it from the-” “i will be in my room, alright?” you scurried to go inside of your room and quickly took your letter knife to open the letter.

to miss y/n of house brigitte i am writing,

i apologize for the disturbance as it is very late right now. however, my heart is at unrest.

i do not know where or who told you regarding what happened to the kim family however, i do hope that you would trust me more than them.

the kim family followed the jeong from the start, however the last generation of the kims has been nothing but a problem for the jeongs.

they have embezzled us out of our own mines, land, field, and everything.

as the current head of the family, i had to do what was necessary and that is to protect my own family. it was not an easy decision but ultimately, i had to exile them.

they have been getting support from the parks now, which i am grateful for.

i do hope you will stop seeing me as a horrible man, for i am serious about my feelings for you, lady brigitte.

i am sorry for the lengthy disturbance but i hope this clears out the misunderstanding between us.

good night, may you have sweet dreams.

signed, jeong yunho

…

it has been two weeks since you and your sister went to your nephew’s house and it is now time for you both to set home. this time though, your relatives are the one visiting your country. however what you didn’t expect is for you to run into yunho out in the wild.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, confused. “i was just having my stroll, greetings i am yunho from the house of jeong” he introduced himself to your relatives. “ah yes, the esteemed jeongs. we are the gardleys from the south” your uncle and aunt bowed to greet yunho which he returned in another bow. somehow, you and your party ended up in the Westnostern Palace which is a closed off territory of the jeongs. yunho offered a brunch for you and your relatives, this was out of nowhere.

it was truly a brunch for the royals. the meals served were meals only high status-ed families would eat. you were grateful but all of this felt like it came out of nowhere. perhaps this was his way of trying to win your heart and you couldn’t help but smile at it. while your relatives and yunho were chatting away, you excused yourself to go to the washroom when in reality, you wanted to take a stroll around the palace. that was when an elderly lady suddenly came up to you and struck a chat with you.

“oh my, you must be the miss brigitte everyone here is talking about!”

“pardon?”

“oh silly old me, i am margareth”

“oh, yes. i am y/n from the house of brigitte. it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance”

“yes, our little yunho has been talking about you” she said while laughing slightly. you were frozen, what is that even supposed to mean?

“talking about me?”

“oh yes, he has been going around the estate asking for advices on you know” she nudges your shoulders slightly. you didn’t know how to reply so you just laughed along.

“either way, i am glad” you stayed quiet, to listen to her.

“i am glad he has finally found love. he has been keeping his heart at such guard to the point even i, as his former caretaker, was very worried.” she continued before she held your hands gently.

“child, i know love might be scary for you but trust me. yunho is a good person, he is just a little rough at first. child, he can bring you the happiness you’ve desired since forever. i hope you can be happy with him” words could not leave your mouth, you only stared at her while she smiled at you.

“granny margareth!” you snapped out of your daze after hearing yunho’s voice.

“oh-ho, that is my cue to go now. i wish you the best of luck, child!” she said before leaving, giving you time with yunho.

he soon joined you to gaze upon the garden of the palace and stood next to you. yunho cleared his throat, making you gaze at him.

“have you finished chatting with my relatives?” you opened the conversation.

“ah yes, they were very enthusiastic people. i had a great time” his sudden soft demeanor makes you want to laugh honestly. it wasn’t a bad thing, just very out of character for him.

“i see” you replied but you couldn’t hold back your giggles

“pardon?”

“oh, no. it’s just funny to me”

“what’s funny?”

“you, right now.”

“right, i must look like a lovesick fool”

yunho admitting it himself just feels way too funny for you, causing you to go on a fit of laughter. he only stared at you, with a slight smile. taking in how he made you laugh, how your smile completely lit up his whole world. oh, he was so in love.

“lovesick fool, oh dear. i’m sorry” you try to regain your composure.

“no it’s alright, i like watching you smile” he replied. you only raised your eyebrows before one of his guard men called out to him, informing him that your relatives had finished touring the palace with his butler.

“let’s go back shall we?” he offered his hand to guide you, in which you accepted this time.

yunho isn’t as bad as you thought.

…

as if the universe is finally giving you a break, san came by the brigitte’s estate to propose to angela. you also soon found that yunho helped san get the permission of the choi family. he persuaded them to let him marry angela despite your family being inferior compared to the chois. yunho was such an enigma to you. however not one you hated, in fact one you’d love to figure out. his entire demeanor and how it changed almost in one night. how he suddenly became this soft and kind individual despite his reputations being the absolute opposite of that.

thus when he visited your estate, you couldn’t help but welcome him with open arms for what he has done for your sister.

“greetings, um” yunho stuttered slightly. he was visibly nervous and he didn’t know how to properly act this time. you couldn’t help but smile endearingly at him.

“greetings, mr. jeong. how can i possibly help you?”

“may i invite you to go on a walk with me, perhaps?”

“sure.”

…

yunho never struck you as a big romanticist. however, all of his actions recently show otherwise. this guy was a big romanticist. he is definitely a firm believer of soulmates and it is adorable. beyond the cold expression he wears, the fancy suits and coats that make him unapproachable, he is just a plain guy who loves hard.

you both strolled around the Northwestern Palace, the place you first met each other. though the first encounter was rather lukewarm, your current relationship was much better than that. when you reached at the end of the palace’s park, a glistening lake could be seen. the atmosphere was incredibly soothing and heartwarming. seeing swans nurturing each other, you couldn’t help but smile while gazing at the scenery.

“so, um. miss y/n” yunho cleared his throat.

“yes?”

“i would like to take upon this chance, to… try once again” oh, so that was what he was after.

“miss y/n of house brigitte. i, jeong yunho, have simply fallen for you. i cannot contain these feelings within me anymore. i apologize if i have ever made your heart hurt from before, however i can promise you one thing. i will devote myself to keeping that smile on your face. i will make sure your days ahead are nothing short of happiness. miss y/n, would you do me the favor of letting myself become yours?” he knelt down in front of you with a small box on his hands. it was a ring, he was proposing you. you have been in this situation several times, but none have made you this glad to receive one.

“yes, i would” you replied. this time, it was different. perhaps it was yunho’s magic finally working on you, but you couldn’t be more glad that it was him.

he quickly smiled and slipped the ring into your finger then he lifted you up in an embrace. “hey!” you laughed. “thank you” yunho gazed straight at you before pulling you in for a kiss, your first kiss.

finally, love found you.

…

“y/n, are you serious about this?” your father asked you. he had received a formal letter from the jeongs, inquiring him about their plans to officially propose you.

“yes father, look” you showed off your ring finger, now adorned with a ring that had a small aquamarine gem.

“did you not dislike him before?” your father asked you once again. he was well aware about how you felt regarding yunho since the first.

“yes but those feelings have changed. father, are you questioning my decisions now?” you replied with a grin on your face. this made your father give up and accepted the situation.

“i am glad you finally found the one” your father got up from his seat to hug you and you hugged him back.

…

“From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

―

Jane Austen,

Pride and Prejudice

…

the end.

#yunho #yunho fic #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #tyudearwrites

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getawayfox · 4 months

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Happy birthday, darling @wolfpants! I’m bringing you a banner with Draco on it since you share a birthday with him, what a fun coincidence! When deciding how to celebrate you and your writing, I knew I wanted to do an author’s reclist but wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it because every single fic in your catalogue is worth a rec of its own. So I took inspiration from an ask game - a list of categories I could fill with my rambling. I hope you have a wonderful birthday full of nice things! ILY! 🤍

🤍 A fic I want to read again for the first time: Under Giant Mountains (Drarry, E, 34k)

I thought about it for a long time because I would give anything to experience all of them for the first time again but eventually, I landed on Under Giant Mountains. It feels a bit sacred to me and I think it’s because I relate to this Harry a lot; because it’s a gentle story about healing; because it made me cry but in that really good, cathartic way. I think it will do the same regardless of how many times I read it.

🤍 A fic I reread the most times: Pages of You (Drarry, E, 102k)

According to AO3 the fic I have visited the most is Pages of You, which is no surprise. Do I share how many times I clicked on that fic? Is it embarrassing? Probably. Oh well, here it is:

Look, it’s my comfort fic, okay? What can I say - an 80s coming-of-age story? Sign me the hell up. In all honesty, I don’t really have words to describe how this fic makes me feel - it’s like a safety net for my inner child maybe, or something similarly, horribly cheesy. It’s a book I want to own, have on my bookshelf, and return to it over and over again. Maybe one day it will be.

🤍 A fic that made me (re)consider a ship: Spellbound (Draco/Albus, E, 2k)

So here is the thing - I’m pretty faithful to my favourite ships and don’t often read outside of them, except when it’s a rarepair that catches my eye and then I’m happy to be persuaded. And Wolf is brilliant at that, honestly, they could talk me into anything. And so even when it comes to a ship I didn’t know I needed, like Draco/Albus for instance, I just know that in their hands, it’s gonna be layered and thought-provoking and just so, so delicious. Here is the proof: Spellbound, a Dead Dove fic that is just the perfect flavour of dirtyhotwrong. Yum.

🤍 A favourite rarepair fic: Galvanize (Scorpius/Ron, M, 1k)

Speaking of rarepairs. Wolf has a whole collection of kinkuary fics, which is a rarepair heaven, go forth and pick your poison. I’m gonna go with Galvanize, in support of Hot Ron Agenda ™. It’s an M-rated Scorpius/Ron fic and the dynamic here is unmatched - so innocent and yet. Gah!

🤍 A line from a fic that’s haunted me: Waiting for the Moon to Rise (Drarry with a hint of Bill, E, 9k)

This is hard because I can think of many (see QQR) but if I had to choose just one, it would have to be this masterpiece:

—his voice had been thick, Draco remembers that, because he’d been eating an apple stolen from the kitchens on their way outside. He kept trying to get Draco to eat it too, playfully pressing the bitten edges to his mouth, damp like a kiss, until Draco had pushed him off him with a laugh— “stop that, Potter, or I’ll shove it someplace where it’ll hurt ”—and all the while, his lips had tingled with sweetness, a phantom caress he would take to his bed later that night and think about with his hands while the rest of the Eighth Year boys would sleep and snore, none the wiser—

Which is of course from Waiting for the Moon to Rise, featuring an intimate friendship, lots of UST and Bill the matchmaker 😏

🤍 A fic that ripped my heart out (but it hurt so good): The Hollow (Remus/Draco, E, 12.5k)

Oh boy. We’ve all read The Hollow, right? Right. It’s one of those fics I think about so often it can’t be healthy and yet I can’t go anywhere near it again because I don’t think I would survive a second read. It’s so, so, so good. It’s so painful. It’s everything I want from the pairing. I never want to see it again. It carved itself into my heart and will stay there forever.

🤍 A fic that made me laugh: Romp and Circumstance (Drarry, E, 33k)

So. Many. Wolf’s banter in fics is unmatched but for the sake of this game I have to say one, so I’ll go with Romp and Circumstance - and as much as this fic is hilarious, it’s also so full of love and longing and romance. It’s so vibrant! A perfectly executed AU with characterizations that are just chef’s kiss!

🤍 A song I now associate with a fic: Everybody Hates a Tourist (Drarry, E, 52k)

I will always associate Common People by Pulp with Everybody Hates a Tourist. I remember sitting in a beach cafe last year and the song started playing and immediately transferred me into the holiday vibes of the fic. I’m obsessed with both Harry and Draco in this story: with who they are, separately, and eventually together. Their characters are written so brilliantly here; they’re both given space to grow into themselves, into what they want out of life and their getting together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

🤍 A fic that’s between me and my AO3 history: Seat You Higher than the Stars (Ron/Harry, E, 1,8k)

Ha! I have no secrets or shame. Nothing is just between me and AO3, I’m an open book and will shout about it, and especially about this fic I thought was fitting (pun intended) for this category - just look at the tags: emotional vulnerability and fisting (elmo fire emoji). This is Seat you Higher than the Stars, a Ronarry fic that has got to be one of my favourite things ever written. It’s so tender and beautiful!

🤍 A fic that feels like a warm blanket: Thickets (Drarry, E, 17k)

That is *exactly* how reading Thickets feels. Oh, this fic. So gentle and mature, full of soft, quiet pining and second chances. It’s so atmospheric and nostalgic. Layered with complicated grief and vowed with humor and warmth, this fic is simply stunning. It’s a getting back together story that feels like a deep exhale. It’s melancholic and hopeful and it has one of my favourite characters of all time - a portrait of Young Draco to perfectly illustrate just how far current Draco has come.

🤍 A fic I want to be made into a film: Led by Light of a Star Sweetly Gleaming (Sirius/Remus, E, 53k)

My Wolfstar-loving heart could not forget this story - in a way a prequel to Pages of You but also a standalone fic set in the '60s. Wolf’s worldbuilding and attention to detail really shine here - it would make such a stunning film! But it’s not just that, it’s the characters, too, where the magic lies: completely in awe of each other and unbearably lovely. “You’ve no idea how much I want to worship you.” will be forever my favourite thing Sirius has ever said.

#wolfpants #reclist #drarry #wolfstar #rarepairs

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freyyzu · 2 years

Note

i do not know if you are taking requests or not ,, so im sorry for requesting if you are not and just ignore this please 😭💗💗💗

but if you are,,is it possible to have the demon brothers finding a breath taking sculpture of them in mcs room made by their hands ( sculptors are just *chefs kiss* ) maybe the bros weren't sure about confessing but this was the final straw?

SCULPTURES

There's a sculpture sitting on your desk and it looks an awful lot like him.

a/n; sorry this took me ages anon, i have no excuse aksjdh though, i was unsatisfied with how i wrote this so i had to restart like four times...

Lucifer is taken aback

throughout all his years of living he’s seen many portraits and sculptures of the like that try to replicate his beauty. many failed, many succeeded, and he can say for certain as he looks at the one atop your desk right now, that you have succeeded.

maybe it’s the lovesick part of him talking, perhaps he was just in awe at how incredibly skilled you are at your hobby, but there’s no denying the fact that his heartbeat has sped up and that he was more entranced by your work of him than he ever has been with the delicately crafted portraits from the celestial realm.

lucifer had always been on the fence about his feelings. he had many responsibilities under his belt, and there were other factors at play — excuses, every single one of them. perhaps finding your sculpture was just the thing he needed as the final push to tell you how he feels already.

Mammon feels his brain stop working

as soon as he spots the sculpture of him just plainly in the middle of your desk he gets mildly annoyed. of course he knew you were working on something, but never did he think it was going to be him.

it’s pretty. he’s never been a person to really care for the fine arts but when it’s of him, and when it was carefully and so meticulously crafted by you of all people, he can’t help but admire it more. a part of him wonders why you didn’t just ask for him to be your model — it’s literally his job! and then it hits him.

he’s a mess for the next couple days every time he runs into you. his ears are red, and he stutters over the most basic of words until eventually he just lets it out that he had found your sculpture of him when he came to visit and it was making him embarrassed because he’s been in love with you for so long and now you just had to go and make it worse. don’t tell him you left it out on purpose, he’s sure to blow a fuse.

Leviathan near breaks it

it wasn’t on purpose! and he catches it just as it’s about to fall, so crisis avoided! but now there’s another problem, and that’s him. him - who is so red in the face he fears he might actually explode within the next few seconds.

levi’s love for figurines is practically unmatched, meaning when he found out about your skills he was over the moon in learning more about it, maybe commission something from you… but he certainly didn’t expect you to sculpt him of all people! he carefully places the stone back on the table exactly where he finds it and scampers out of your room faster than one could blink.

don’t come into his room for the next year, normie! he means it! because if you come in then he’s going to for sure say something he’ll regret if you don’t feel the same way. maybe… you should help him a little bit with that?

Satan is at a loss for words

there are a number of things that he could say right now to vocalize his amazement at your skill and how deeply touched he feels, but all the words that he wants to say seemingly die in his throat.

he can’t help but admire your work forlonger than necessary, the fear that you might come back and see that he had found your work be damned. in fact, he would prefer that you came back in at that moment so he could tell you straight away what amazing work you’ve done.

he grabs your hand the next time you have alone time together. a smile graces his lips, casually brining up just how you really outdid yourself this time with your new piece. the flush that paints your cheeks is enough to make him spill his feelings right then and there.

Asmodeus can’t help but swoon

the curl of his bangs, the length of his nails, the flutter of his lashes — somehow you’ve managed to capture it all in your sculpture. he can’t even imagine how much time and effort (not to mention skill) this must have taken you, and he wants nothing more than to tell you just how fantastic of a job you’ve done!

it was entirely accidental that he had seen the sculpture, but then again it was hard to miss when it was just smack in the middle of your desk. with his curiosity piqued, asmo gives it a glance and immediately gasps upon seeing a beautifully constructed pose of him carved out in stone.

he doesn’t hide the fact that he saw your ‘little’ project at all. the next time you’re in your room he barges in with glee to smother you with appreciation, his confession spilling out the middle of it all. would you like to get a live look at all the features you couldn’t craft by memory? he’ll let you see those and more if you’re up for it.

Beelzebub thought you got it commissioned

unlike the rest of the brothers, he doesn’t come into your room often without permission, and unless you mention that you have a hobby in sculpting it doesn’t cross his mind at all that you’re the person who crafted it. it’s only when he sees the tools neatly tucked away in a corner does it really settle in that you’re the artist.

art isn’t something that has a place in beel’s heart, but even he can admire how much time you’ve put into this. there were days where you hadn’t shown up on time for breakfast and other times where you completely skipped dinner. He was worried about whether or not you were getting enough energy, but at least now he knew the reason behind it all.

his confession is purely accidental. he finds you the next day to tell you he hopes that now that you’re done with your sculpture that you’ll stop skipping meals. he likes you too much to see you possibly faint because of him. oh, and of course he appreciates that you care for him so much you would even sculpt him! it was really well done.

Belphegor thinks his eyes are deceiving him

he comes by your room practically every other day for a nap when the attic just isn’t doing it anymore, so how had he never noticed that you were making something like this?

his finger traces the grooves of the structure, admiring how there were no nicks or rough areas, all while trying to wrap his head around that fact that it was really him. it takes him a bit to remember you could come back any time now, so he makes himself comfortable on your bed as he always does.

when you do come back to your room a while later he invites you to cuddle like he hadn’t just walked in to the surprise you were planning to give him. that doesn’t matter though, if you want to sculpt him more after this he’s all the more willing to let you as long as you tell him why you picked him of all people. he thinks the look that crosses your face is adorable.

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puddingyun · 8 months

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trophy . ݁₊ ⊹ c.jh

ice hockey player!jongho x ice skater!reader

: 6.3k words, slow burn, pining, injury, bruises, blood, scars, alcohol, fluff, some nudity, implied self harm :

thank you to @flurrys-creativity for beta reading this ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ requests open ♡

Jongho was a legend on the ice. The way he skated had all of the grace of a trained dancer, while his brute strength matched that of weightlifters and rugby players with far more experience than him. His speed was close to unmatched and half of his team's wins could be attributed to his presence. Watching him was like watching a daydream unfold before your eyes. In a sport that was tough, bloody and fierce, Jongho's skill (and often Jongho himself) was mesmerising. You knew this first-hand.

The afternoons you'd spent watching ice hockey games that you had no real interest in were countless. Sitting in the stands, the scores and terminology that others knew well flew over your head and instead your head filled with admiration and adoration for Jongho. From amateur middle school matches to high school tournaments to college games, you always found yourself a seat that you could watch him from, his face coloured pink from exertion and each of his heavy breaths making your heart flutter.

But watching from afar never felt like enough.

You picked up ice skating when you started high school. With nobody to teach you and a pair of ratty second-hand ice skates in tow, you sat shyly on the bench by the rink, lacing up your skates and pretending you weren't here just because of a boy. As you moved to put on your second skate, a warm hand grabbed yours.

"Careful."

You looked up to find Jongho standing beside you and holding your hand in his.

"You shouldn't grab the skate by the blade. It's sharper than it looks," he explained, letting go of your hand. You let it fall limply in your lap.

"Oh. Thank you, I... I didn't know," you replied, embarrassed by your carelessness.

"It's no problem," he replied with a smile. "You should get some guards for them, so you don't cut your fingers up trying to put them on."

"I will. Thank you," you said, and tried your best to return his friendly smile.

"See you around," he replied. His eyes stayed on yours for a beat longer, and then he was turning and heading off to the changing rooms. You watched him go until he was completely out of sight, your heart hammering in your chest and fingers trembling. You slid your foot into the second skate and tied them up with some difficulty, all the while avoiding the blade just as Jongho had warned you to do.

As you skidded and slipped around the rink on that first day, clinging to the edge more often than not, your mind revolved around Jongho's hand grabbing yours with a gentleness that completely contrasted his ruthlessness during matches. Even as your palms slammed against the ice when you fell, the warmth of his hand seemed to persist there, like an affectionate ghost.

For those first months when you were learning how to keep your balance on the ice, bruises adorned your limbs. They weren't always dark, nor did they always swell, but they ached beneath your skin all of the same. As you sat beneath the shower head, hot water raining down on you, you traced the evidence of your time on the ice with a fingertip, and wondered if there were similar marks scattered across Jongho's body. One month you traced a particularly ugly bruise on your hip every night as it healed, and imagined it was Jongho's skin beneath your touch.

By the end of high school you were good on the ice. Nothing like Jongho, of course, who seemed to come to life each time he stepped onto the rink, but your bruises had dwindled down to a scrape or two each month, and with the help of reading up on the sport and practising, you could land a few amateurish-looking jumps, although you still wobbled on the landings and your form was far from perfect.

Although you'd already started college, the ice was quickly becoming your priority. The ice that Jongho practised on and played on, left marks upon and cheered for his team upon. It was your only way of feeling connected to him besides the warmth still lingering on your hand from years ago. The stolen glances and brief eye contact you'd gotten from practising in the same rink as him over the years were nothing compared to the memory of him saving your fingers from a deep gash.

When the rink closed for Christmas Eve you cycled down to the frozen lake outside of town, the wind biting your cheeks and blowing your hair behind you in the wind. Your skates (a new second-hand pair that fit your feet after you grew that were, unfortunately, just as ratty as the last) clattered quietly in your backpack, cheering you on as you cycled down dirt paths to reach the lake.

Snow was sprinkled over the top of the frozen lake, looking like icing sugar dusted across a plate, and was disrupted only by a few lines you recognised as those from ice skates. Somebody else had been skating here as well.

You leaned your bike up against a tree and sat by the edge of the lake to change your winter boots to skates, fingers frozen by the time you pulled your gloves back on. As you slid across the lake the only sounds keeping you company were the cars driving by on a distant highway and birds twittering as they jumped to and fro on snowy branches. Not even the foggy clouds of your breath stayed for long, disappearing quickly as you practised to perfect different turns you'd been studying.

You were so absorbed in what you were doing that a small sound wouldn't have bothered you, not the cracking of a branch or the honking of a horn, but the sound that snapped you out of a turn was loud. The clattering of a bike falling to the ground rang out across the lake and you startled, barely managing to turn around without toppling to the ground.

Your bike was still leaning against the tree where you'd left it. Standing beside it was Jongho and beside him was his own bike that you recognised from watching him leave school in the afternoons. It was his bike that had fallen to the ground, not yours.

"Sorry about that," he called out. "You okay?"

All of a sudden you could hear your own heartbeat, thumping loudly in your ears.

"You scared me," you whispered, and when you realised he hadn't heard you, you called out to him. "You scared me."

He smiled. Then he laughed. Your heartbeat grew raucous.

"I didn't think anybody else was here," he called out, sitting down by the edge of the lake just as you had to put on his skates. You swallowed the lump in your throat, but it came back up just a second later. "There's enough space for both of us though. Don't let me bother you."

The thought of him being the one to bother you was almost hysterical, but you didn't say so. You just watched him put on his skates the way you'd imagined him doing countless times before, and turned away just before he could catch you staring.

You could hear his skates cutting up the ice as he worked alongside you, speeding past you and almost knocking you to your knees a few times. You couldn't work up the nerve to practise anything complex in front of him, not when he could move at the speed of light across the ice and you still hadn't perfected an axel. So instead you moved through half-hearted bracket turns and forward drags, your racing pulse reminding you who you were alone on the lake with.

You weren't sure how long it had been when Jongho skated up beside you, a small smile on his lips.

"I've seen you practice at the rink," he said as you both slid slowly along the ice. Your eyes widened and you lifted your gaze from your skates to his face. He was smiling at you still. "You're really good."

Your heart jumped up into your throat. You could hear yourself stuttering as you tried to form an adequate answer, your lips cold and clumsy.

"Not as good as you are," you managed to say, which only made Jongho laugh softly, like he'd expected the answer but didn't believe it. "I've seen you at some games. I think you're- Actually, you are the best skater I've seen. I don't just... Think it."

"Thank you," Jongho mumbled, this time sounding bashful. "I kind of saw you out here before I put my bike down. You were doing some really cool stuff but you stopped after you saw me."

"Oh," you said, the word coming out in a little puff of foggy air. You turned your attention back to your skates and the ice beneath them. You wondered if you'd have been less or more embarrassed by him seeing your untrained turns and jumps than you were by his asking you about them. "I thought it'd kind of be like trying to cook a meal for a Michelin star chef but only having a microwave to work with."

You felt yourself smiling even as you spoke, and once the words were out Jongho laughed too. Slowly, you both came to a stop in the middle of the lake and your laughter mingled with his, filling the quiet space. He moved to stand in front of you, skates slicing up the ice.

"Would you show me one of your jumps?" he asked. When you inhaled sharply, hesitating, he smiled at you, warm just like his hand had been as it pulled yours from the blade of your first skates. "If it makes you feel better, I used a microwave to make my lunch yesterday."

You felt yourself smiling even as your anxiety kept you on edge.

"Okay," you whispered. Jongho grinned. You locked the image away in your mind, where you could come back to it everyday for as long as you lived.

The air was cold, rushing against your face as you skated out into the lake. You felt your heart skip a beat when you caught sight of Jongho, warmth heating up your cheeks at the thought of him watching you skate – something you'd only taken up so that you could watch him.

You moved on the ice as smoothly as you could, picturing Jongho's fluid movements during his games, and put all of your trust into your muscle memory as you moved through a single axel jump. The landing was clumsy, your knee wobbling and your position unsteady as you tried to hold it, but the jump itself had been close to perfect. Your blood pumped fast, first thanks to your accomplishment and then thanks to Jongho's applause.

"I knew you were good," he exclaimed, laughing when you gave him a breathless bow, not much more than a dip of the head. You didn't want to take your eyes off of him for a second.

The two of you skated around each other languidly, leaning into the edges of your skates and making small talk about ice hockey, college classes and Christmas. The way he spoke was just as mesmerising as the way he moved, and you found yourself lulled into a sleepy state listening to him, as though the sound was a pillow you could rest your head on.

You were watching a bird fly overhead during a pause in your conversation and he reached out to touch your arm, glove brushing against your jacket.

"I brought some coffee with me from home... It's probably lukewarm by now but we could share some if you want?" he asked.

You spent Christmas Eve afternoon perched on the lake's edge, taking sips from Jongho's thermos and watching birds investigate the marks left behind by your ice skates. His fingertips touched your knuckles as you passed the thermos to him and you thought of all of the bruises you'd touched with your own fingertips, wondering what it would have felt like if they belonged to him.

"I'll see you around, right?" he asked as you both got back on your bikes. The sky was growing dim overhead. Tomorrow morning it would be Christmas, but no gift you received would top this chance afternoon on the ice with Jongho.

"Yeah. At the rink," you replied. Years of watching him from afar had all built up to his lips pulling into a smile as you both exchanged small nods. As you began to pedal away, you remembered you'd missed something. You turned and called out to him. "Merry Christmas!"

Though he was already far away, you heard him call back.

"Merry Christmas!"

You spent evenings with your fingers resting on your lips, imagining kissing the ice he had skated on. Would it stick to your lips, tear the skin away and leave them bloody? Or would it slowly give way, melting against your skin and leaving your lips wet? Most of the time you could only assume you'd be left mangled and bleeding. As your first years of ice skating had shown you after all, the ice was fully capable of leaving behind damage.

College was coming to a close. Exams should have been the thing on your mind, but instead you spent your afternoons at the rink, either bruising your limbs in your attempt to perfect your jumps or watching Jongho from the stands. Though your conversations with him were still brief and always exchanged over the guise of skating talk, he would catch your eye during lulls in the matches and wave his hockey stick at you. The moment he had turned back around you would press a hand to your chest to try and calm your racing heart. It never worked.

The rink became busy as finals season approached. There were several skaters who were trying desperately to take their minds off of the upcoming exams, others training for sports scholarships that would probably go to somebody else, and some just passing the time.

The chill of the ice seeped through your leggings, clinging to your skin even as you moved through various turns and jumps, trying to perfect them without moving into someone else's line of skating. You'd been here for too long, you realised, your teeth chattering as you leaned against the edge of the rink to catch your breath. As you lifted your head, you saw Jongho arriving at the rink. He didn't see you as you watched from your spot against the wall, and you felt much like you had done in the years before the two of you spent that afternoon at the lake. Watching him out in the open, right in front of him, but somehow still invisible. Despite the chill crawling up beneath the fabric of your clothes, warmth bloomed in your chest. You could watch him forever, you thought, and were comforted by that.

It was likely because of your watching him that you didn't notice it. Two college boys in sharp hockey skates, barrelling towards you as they squabbled over a revision question they had different answers to. You didn't see what happened – if they weren't looking, if one of them slipped, if they had even noticed you – but you definitely felt it. Because even though your calves were cold, it was impossible not to feel the blade of somebody's ice skate slashing into your calf.

You screamed. In your panic, you slipped and fell, bruising yourself on the cold, hard ice that was slowly being stained with red. There was swearing – a lot of it – and then there was Jongho.

His voice, always kind and light-hearted, raised to a yell he reserved only for the toughest of matches. While you were helped off of the ice, you could see him scolding the two boys who had run into you for not paying attention, your tears blurring your vision so that the scene looked like something you would have dreamed up while lying in bed. The throbbing in your leg reminded you that this was painfully real.

Although he wasn't the one who helped you off of the ice, Jongho was the one who rushed towards you once a first-aid kit was fetched. His hands shook as he worked, diligently tying the bandage around your leg the way you'd seen their coach teach them to do all the way back in middle school, always worried for the boys' safety.

"It's just a little cut," he reassured you, but the shake in his voice told you it was much more than that. You felt a sob rise up in your throat and escape before you could stop it. Jongho pulled you into him, your face tucked away against his shoulder while his hand moved up and down your back slowly. You were too dizzy with shock to realise that you'd never seen Jongho hold somebody else for this long before. "There's no bone showing, nothing is broken, you'll just get some stitches and then you'll be fine."

You whimpered again at this. Assuming you were afraid of needles, Jongho shushed you and explained that stitches weren't painful at all. This did little to comfort you when it wasn't the needles or stitches that you were afraid of, but the time you'd be spending off of the ice while your leg healed. You only managed to quell your tears when Jongho pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, I'll drive you to the hospital."

Jongho had been comforting you about the wrong thing, but he'd been right that stitches wouldn't be painful. After taking a blade to the leg, you'd come to the conclusion that there was little else in the world you would find painful now. Jongho held your hand as the gash was stitched up and then re-bandaged, not once complaining when your blunt nails dug into his skin or when you squeezed without warning. His thumb moved back and forth over your knuckles slowly, lulling you gently the same way his voice had a habit of doing.

Even as he drove you home, one hand rested atop yours for most of the ride, thumb moving over your veins and tendons so slowly and for so long that he could have made a map of the back of your hand if he had wanted to. After all you knew that you had mapped out his palm by now, hazy life lines, fate lines and heart lines etched into your memory.

"I'll come by to check on you," he reassured you. You just nodded. Your eyes were sore from crying, your hands shook from exhaustion, and no suitable words seemed to exist for the man in front of you. Admiration and adoration had led him here, standing in the doorway to your apartment with your blood still staining his sleeves. You wondered if he would wash it off or keep it. You knew which you would have done.

"Thank you for the help," you whispered. Jongho shook his head, a silent reassurance of it's no problem. A beat of silence passed. He took a step closer and pressed a tentative kiss to your cheek.

"Get some rest," he said softly, face still close enough to yours that you could feel the shape of his words against your cheek. You stared at him through a film of tears that made him as blurry and glimmering as earlier when he was standing on the ice.

"Okay," you whispered, and shut the door before any more tears could fall in front of him.

Jongho had told you he'd come by to check on you, but you knew that wasn't a promise that was guaranteed to go unbroken. He was writing his final exams, playing matches against better opponents, trying for scholarships that he hadn't gotten the last time he tried out for them. You didn't expect him to come by and you weren't bothered when he didn't because he wasn't really absent, his face and form always a shadow in the back of your mind.

A week later, with your calf throbbing and wrapped in fresh bandages, you dragged yourself to the ice rink. For the first time in years there were no skates in your backpack, only two cans of cheap beer that rattled against each other when you cycled over uneven pavement. The middle of finals week meant only the most dedicated hockey players and figure skaters were on the ice when you arrived, and as you sat down in the stands to watch them, you spotted Jongho among them.

One of his teammates was timing him as he moved across the ice, hockey stick in his hands and moving just as fluidly against the ice as the blades of his skates. He was concentrated. Determined. The bittersweet beer coated your tongue as you watched him from the stands like you'd been doing for most of your life. His sharp turns still made your heart flutter like they had done when you were twelve, fifteen, eighteen and twenty. You still felt your breath catch in your throat when it looked as though he might glance your way. Your hands squeezed the half-empty beer can tight when you saw him smile, aluminium crumpling between your fingers.

For all of the work you'd put into making yourself a better skater, somebody who was worthy of sharing a rink with him, you were back on the sidelines again. Your calf ached beneath your sweatpants. The skin on your hands prickled with the memory of his palms. You traced a finger along the back of your hand as you watched him, recalling how his palm had pressed against it during the car ride back from the hospital. You could still feel each of them against your skin now: Life line. Fate line. Heart line.

The cut on your calf was going to leave a nasty scar. Whether in the dim light of your bathroom or the fluorescent light of the changing room at the rink, the gash was deep enough that even in the early stages of healing it promised to leave behind a line of discoloured and lumpy skin. The ice and blades that had woven themselves into your life thanks to Jongho were now woven into the layers of your skin as well, and when you tentatively touched the wound with thoroughly sanitized hands, you heard the clattering of Jongho's bike falling to the ground by the lake years ago. You wore the slowly forming scar like the mark of a branding iron, ashamed of the pride you felt each time you saw it.

In the locker room where everybody else rushed to change and get home for a warm shower far away from the ice, you sat with your legs folded against your chest long after everybody had left. You touched the blades of your skates in their guards, admiring them and wondering if they could really cause so much harm, even when the proof was embedded in your skin. Without you realising, months passed you by, and while the scar on your calf healed shut (just as ugly as you'd predicted), you stroked the cool metal blades without a barrier to keep you from its sharp, unforgiving edge.

Late summer and early autumn melted into one bleary, apathetic season. You skated less and sat on the sidelines more, the sting of your skates constant on your fingers and knuckles. Jongho watched you from the rink, raising his hockey stick and beckoning you to join him on the ice. You imagined running up to him each time, sliding across the ice with him while your lips pressed to his, but never moved from your spot. You waved a hand and mouthed dishonest laters at him.

When he left the rink you landed jumps that you thought you'd never master – loops, lutzes, double axels – but always you ended up kneeling on the ice, pressing your fingertips to the spots where Jongho had skated.

While the air was still warm you ventured back out to the lake, the strings of your bikini top tied tight against your neck and ribs, ice skates in your bag clattering against a bottle of whipped cream flavoured vodka. You wouldn't be able to skate on the lake at this time of year but you still brought them, if only because the weight of them in your backpack reminded you of a Christmas Eve spent with the boy you adored more than anybody, sipping coffee gone cold and tracing over each other's marks in the ice.

You leaned your bike against the same tree you did years before, kicking your shoes off and shimmying your shorts to the ground. You were so used to the chill of the ice rink by now that even as a warm breeze hugged your sides and thighs you instinctively fought a shiver. You'd been warding off the cold since your first day on the rink and so you swallowed a searing mouthful of vodka as you tiptoed to the lake's edge, something you'd seen teenage skaters doing in huddled groups before a long practice. With your stomach warm and only slightly queasy, you left the bottle on a patch of grass and waded forward into the cool water.

The water was welcoming in a way that the ice wasn't. Lazily, you swam out further and moved to float on your back like a starfish, your eyes squeezed shut to keep out the sun. The lake water lapped at your skin lovingly, welcoming you home and pulling you in further. Where the ice bit and cut, the water soothed and pacified. Even when the cuts along your fingers and calves were submerged beneath the water, you felt no sharp sting. There was no punishment for being damaged here.

"Hey!"

You opened your eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight bathing your face, and slowly moved so you could see who was on the shore. When you made out Jongho's face in the sun your stomach filled with mayflies. They were less beautiful than butterflies but made up for it with their frantic fluttering, desperate to accomplish something before their short lives came to an end, flying up into your throat and asking why you were still just watching Jongho from afar. Cheeks burning, you raised a hand and waved at him.

"Is it cool if I drink some of this?" he called out, giving you a thumbs up when you nodded.

You watched him from the water, your lips submerged and nose barely high enough to breathe. It was the closest you'd come to really being invisible around him, but somehow his eyes found you more easily now than they ever had before. He took a swig from the bottle, bigger than yours, and you found yourself wondering about his tolerance for liquor. He set the bottle back where he'd found it, and then stripped down to his underwear before wading into the water after you.

You stayed still in the middle of the lake, watching Jongho finally come after you instead of letting you chase him. When he was close enough you could smell the alcohol on his breath, and beneath it was the awkward, misplaced sweetness of the whipped cream flavouring. You were reminded of all of the dainty, fluttery outfits figure skaters wore on the harsh ice.

"I went looking for you at the rink but obviously you weren't there," Jongho said, shrugging slightly and sending ripples out into the water around him. "I found you here last time I looked for you so..."

"You were looking for me?" you asked, thinking back to the thermos full of coffee that you'd shared. Enough for two people, you realised.

"Yeah," Jongho said. He laughed, embarrassed, and looked away from you. You recognised the quick turn of the head from the many afternoons you'd spent pretending you weren't looking at him. "I would see you at the rink and wanted to talk to you but... You look so... Immersed when you're skating. You're mesmerising. I didn't want to interrupt you, so I just watched."

The words struck a chord with you. How many times had you thought the same thing while watching him? Enough times that you couldn't count the number on both of your hands. You weren't sure there were enough hands in the whole world to count that number.

"I used to watch you too," you whispered, your bottom lip touching the water. Your words were almost swallowed up by the lake. "Since before I learned how to skate. I still watch you now."

Jongho turned to look at you again. You were both squinting to keep the sun out of your eyes but it still cast rays of light over his face that made him look the way he did when you dreamed him up in your head. He looked a lot like an angel.

"You stopped skating around me after you cut your leg," he murmured. "At first I didn't realise but you're never on the ice when I am any more."

It was a statement, but a question lay beneath his words that made you bite your lip, one that would make you admit out loud just how much his skating meant to you.

"I didn't want you to see how I skated after I got hurt," you admitted quietly.

"I did see you, though. From the door of the changing room most of the time. Your skating hasn't changed. Nothing about you has changed," he exclaimed, trying to reassure you. There was a collection of scars on your legs and fingers by now that begged to differ, but his words still settled in you like the mouthful of vodka had, making you glow from the inside out. You smiled into the lake water and felt his hand reach for yours beneath the water. The palm you had committed to memory pressed against the back of your hand. "Only the ice changed. It's not the same without you."

You thought of how the ice glittered beneath Jongho's skates, how you'd never wanted to be on it until you saw him there first. You hadn't considered that the feeling could go two ways, not when he was an ice hockey legend and you were a self-taught figure skater.

"Jongho," you breathed, because you couldn't think of anything else to say. Your world was glowing around you, and right in front of you was the reason why. Your breath tangled to form a knot in your chest while your fingers tangled with Jongho's, blunt nails digging into soft skin. And as he leaned in closer to you, all of the mayflies in your stomach died, letting out a whipped cream vodka flavoured sigh of relief that something had been accomplished during their short lifespan.

Kissing Jongho was like kissing ice. He melted beneath your touch, turned liquid against the warmth of your lips and left you shivering, your hands moving to find purchase on his neck, shoulders and cheeks – anywhere that would have you – and as he melted you found yourself melting too, turning to liquid whipped cream where his hands held your sides, thumbs playing with your bikini's strings.

The two of you did little else that afternoon other than watch each other up close. You'd rarely been around Jongho in the sun and you found that he outshone it the same way he outshone the fluorescent lights of the rink. Swimming slowly on your backs, you made it to the far side of the lake and climbed up onto the rocks. You kissed him again and then he kissed you. Each time was somehow better than the last.

Sitting on the grass by your bikes, you shared more sweet, searing mouthfuls of vodka, so that your mouths tasted of the liquid. Jongho ran his fingers over the scars scattered across your calves, all of them puffy and stark against your skin but none as deep or dangerous-looking as the healed gash you'd gotten from the ice hockey players. His touch was soft but deliberate, not exploring or wandering but visiting exact locations. After years of imagining how he'd touch the sore, damaged parts of you, you no longer had to imagine.

"What happened?" he asked, though the answer was obvious to both of you. You pressed your lips together, felt how they were wet from lake water, vodka, and Jongho.

"Ice skates are sharp," you whispered, glancing at your bag where the skates you'd been using for years lay without their guards on. "That's what you taught me when I first started skating."

You watched him finally land on the deepest, most uneven scar, the only one that wasn't self-inflicted, and how his fingers and eyes lingered there longer than the rest.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," he said softly, and though the words were sad they were gentle as well. He took your hand in his – life line against life line, fate line against fate line, heart line against heart line – and kissed your knuckles.

Summer came to its close finally with you landing a double axel in the middle of an empty rink. There was no shake in your knee on the landing and your ending pose remained steady as you moved to continue skating. In the stands, Jongho was watching you intently, following each line that your skates left behind on the ice. He averted his eyes when you looked his way and tentatively brought his gaze back to you when you continued to watch him. He was just as mesmerising off of the ice as he was on it.

A college states away offered Jongho the scholarship he'd been chasing since high school. He was going to play against better players than the ones in your town, and there was no doubt in your mind that he would beat them. He would be far away from the lake, from the rink you'd both grown up in, and from your unwavering admiration. But he'd still be the reason you stayed on the ice.

It would be months before he came home again, and while he was gone you spent afternoons staring at the rink and imagining him on it. The way his skates moved, the twitch in his lip, the grip on his hockey stick. You skated across the clean rink one morning and etched the lines of his palm into the unblemished ice. When you were done, you kneeled down and pressed your lips to the heart line.

"I brought you something," was the first thing Jongho told you when he came back, breathless from the cold lingering in the air and from the first kiss you'd shared in months. You tucked one hand beneath his jacket to hold his waist. Even through the fabric of his shirt, he was warm against your skin.

"You didn't have to bring anything," you told him, though a smile was playing on your lips. The only gift you had to give him was a routine you'd been practising on the ice since he left, clumsily and carefully choreographed to a song you'd heard him play at many a practice.

"It's nothing, really," he reassured you, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a plastic grocery bag. "Here."

Reluctantly, you let go of his waist and took the bag from him. It's weight and size all but knocked the air out of your lungs, the plastic crinkling as you pulled out the gift inside. Your eyes widened.

"Your trophy?" you exclaimed, looking down at the shining silver award his college had given him. You struggled to find the right words to say and looked up at Jongho to find him looking at you with two feelings you knew all too well: admiration and adoration. "Jongho, you can't give me your trophy."

He'd skated all his life to receive this trophy. You, after all, had only started skating to chase after a boy.

"It's just a trophy," he said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're my trophy."

You opened your mouth to protest, ready to shove the trophy into his chest, only for him to cut you off.

"Look closer."

You hesitated, eyes searching his for any hint that this was a joke but finding none. All you found was the fierce excitement you saw on his face when he was about to score. With a soft sigh, you looked back down at the golden plate nailed to the trophy.

Alongside the clean, majestic font used to spell out Jongho's full name was a line of letters scratched in with a key or pocket knife, their curves sharp and the lines uneven, that spelled out your name as well. Beside it was written ICE PRINCESS in those same scratchy letters. Despite yourself, you smiled. Hugging the trophy to your chest, you leaned in to kiss Jongho again and he hugged you close to him.

Naked in bed with your legs tangled together, you traced the bruises he'd brought back home, admiring each one for the work of art that it was. Mottled hues on his tanned skin formed purple dusks, green and yellow marshes, and reddish-brown autumn leaves. You kissed each and every one that you found. He was warm under your lips, unlike the ice, but still he melted as you pressed a cheek to his stomach and held his waist. One of his hands rested against the nape of your neck, fingers kneading at your skin, and the other rested on your shoulder blade.

The TV churned out commentary for a local figure skating competition. You held onto your trophy and Jongho held onto his.

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